


In the Darkness the Tears Fall

by StormEnchanter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A lot of this fic actually explores Lotor's character, Actual Lancelot, Allura's mothers name is different in this fic than the one they have in the handbook, Also warning but this fic is slow burn, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), But diverges away from the plot a little, Healthy Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Torture, Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, No Klance relationship anywhere in the fic, Pidge and Lance have a sibling relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Slow Burn, This fic solely focuses on Lance and Lotor's relationship, This was supposed to be 22 chapters, Torture, We got to get through the bad to get to the good, a lot of moments where the paladins explore their own loss and emotional problems, but ugh i blame certain creative members of the voltron fandom for giving me ideas, takes place during season 4, this fic actually discusses the brutalities of war and how it affects people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 93,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12977217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormEnchanter/pseuds/StormEnchanter
Summary: Lance could see the pain behind Lotor’s eyes as he told his story. A flame that was no more than a few wild embers that burst from a dying fire.“You were just a kid,” Lance finally whispered.Lotor snorted as he turned his head to gaze into Lance’s eyes. “That clearly didn’t stop my father. Did it?”___Sometimes pain runs deeper than any wound that can be left behind. Lance comes to know this when a mission goes awry and he ends up as a both a bargaining chip and a hostage by Lotor to be used against the other paladins of Voltron. But as Lance spends time as a hostage, enduring countless assaults on his mind, body and spirit; he slowly becomes aware that Lotor behaves nothing like the cold monster he assumed him to be. Not with the countless nights Lotor sits silently with him in his cell, or the nights Lotor brings him a healing salve for his wounds or the nights he swears he can see the faint shimmer of tears in the prince's eyes...or the heavy weight of trauma and pain that he can tell Lotor has buried deep in his heart. Sometimes one knows their enemy better than they know themselves and Lance soon finds that to be true.





	1. I Too Saw God Through Mud

**Author's Note:**

> Well this fic started out with me and [dogbearmouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dogbearmouse/pseuds/dogbearmouse) talking about the lack of Lance x Lotor content that was truly focused on their relationship and didn't have Klance attached to it in some sort of manor or painted Lotor as an obsessive or often times abusive character (no hate against Klance or anyone who ships it, but it's not my cup of tea). And that's how this fic was born (or well how all the angst filled parts were born (･д･) ).
> 
> Plus I really wanted a good Lancelot fic that really had both of their natural characterizations in place and something that really explored Lotor's background and well....a couple months later and we're here. Anyway please enjoy the fic and leave a comment or some kudo's to let me know how you feel.

A rain of gunfire came his way. Laser beams ricocheted off of the wall he was pressed against. Metal boots clacked against the cold metal of the ship’s floor as the robots advanced forward. The purple colored laser beams continued to pour out of the doorway as Lance raised his bayard up to his eyes, the cold metal of the ship’s wall burned into his back despite the layer of armor protecting his body against any form of foreign material.

The bayard grasped in his hand glowed a bright blue as it morphed into his signature blaster. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and tipped his head backward as his left hand curled around the trigger. Quickly turning so that his stomach was pressed against the wall of the Galra ship, he took aim and squeezed the trigger. A thick, blue beam of light fired out of the barrel of his blaster and pinned a robot soldier in the middle of its chest causing it to tip backward as its feet flailed through the air. A barrage of gunfire had Lance yelping as he quickly spun on his heels, pressing his back against the wall once more as the robotic  _ tap, tap _ of feet pounded against the cold steel floor of the ship.

The communicator built into his helmet garbled to life; Shiro’s distorted voice cut through the feed and and embedded itself straight into his eardrum. “ _ Lance...fall back...too dangerous…” _

Lance lifted a hand to his helmet and lightly banged on it, a scowl fixed on his face as he prayed that that would somehow make this piece of alien tech work properly. If it worked back on Earth when his  _ Abuelita _ listened to her old school radio, it should work here in space. The garbled feed blaring into his ear became clear with a firmer smack against the side of his helmet.

“Lance, did you hear me? Fall back; get back to your lion. There’s too many of these Galra robots swarming the ship.” 

Lance chewed on the inside of his cheek as he aimed around the corner of the wall and squeezed the trigger again. A blue beam hit a robot in its shoulder, causing it to stumble backward slightly, but left it remaining on its feet as it squeezed the trigger of its own gun just a little harder. Cursing a little underneath his breath, Lance hid behind the wall once more as a sizzling sound burned close to his ear; his eyes tracked a single purple beam as it burned into the wall that was at most five feet in front of him. A single black hole was the only evidence that proved a laser beam had pierced it; the area around the hole was as black as coal, the metal slightly curved inward as smoke curled off of it. Shifting his head slightly, Lance could see a mirrored hole poking out of the wall near him—just an inch away from his head.

“That’s going to be a little hard, Shiro,” Lance managed to grumble out, “I’m a little pinned down right now—” Angling the blaster around the wall, he took aim and squeezed. A blue bolt shot out of the barrel of his blaster, ricocheting off the wall and into the head of a Galra robot. It shuddered for a few brief seconds as its circuitry managed to fry all at once before it dropped to the floor, no longer a programed soldier, but a scrapheap of metal. “—And I don’t think I’ll be moving any time soon.”

“Allura.” Shiro’s steady voice, even in the midst of combat, was a comfort to hear. Lance could hear on the other end of the transmission a grunt from Shiro, the crackle of energy and metal slicing apart as he cut his way through the horde of robots that were no doubt pinning him down on his end.

“I’m on it,” Allura’s voice crackled in Lance’s ear; the slight tremor of frustration underlying her words was evident. “Lance, just hang on. I’ll be there in a  _ dobosh _ .” 

There was a crackling noise—silence filled the space of Lance’s helmet, save for the sound of robotic footsteps and the volley of gunfire that was raining down in his direction. Aiming at the Galra, he fired off a couple of shots. Each one hitting his target, he slightly paled as the robots kept pressing forward. A never ending stream of them that no matter how many he put down, there were still at least twenty or more that were crowding his way to the hangers. He prayed that Allura would show up soon.

“Lance!”

Turning his head, Lance could see Allura rushing down the hall from his right, a small group of robots—no more than six—chasing after her.

It seemed his prayers were answered. Quickly moving to the middle of the hallway, Lance dropped down on his left knee as he held his blaster aloft in his hands. Time felt like it was slowing down as he gave Allura a small nod; she gave one back as she clutched her bayard tightly in her right hand, shifting most of her weight to the soles of her feet, and as she slightly picked up her pace, Allura tucked her elbows against her side. Pivoting forward, she jumped over Lance’s back, tucking in her knees to her chest as she did so, before carrying her weight over to her right knee as she landed on it. Her bayard glowing and transforming into a blue whip, she raised her right hand, bringing the whip over her head before throwing her hand forward. The whip extended, wrapping around the ankle of a soldier; grunting, she lifted the whip up with her strength and sent the robot that she had ensnared in it flying into the side of its companion beside it.

Lance kept his gaze focused as he shot at the robots in front of him. Taking them down one by one, he looked over his shoulder at Allura’s back at the sound of her yelling, “Lance, come on!”

Shooting up from his position, Lance quickly spun on his heels as Allura shot up and raced into the hallway he had been trying to clear moments earlier. There were still a good number of Galra robots left in it—with a quick glance there had to be no more than fifteen of them—Allura ran toward the wall on her left, she jumped and kicked herself off it, using the momentum and the weight of her own body to sail over the robots until she rolled on the ground behind them. Quickly popping up she lashed out with her whip and wrapped the ankles of each Galra up with it.

Letting out a guttural roar, she smashed them into the wall with an incredible force. The crunch and high pitched twisting of metal and frying of circuitry was like music to both of their ears. Swiping her thumb against the bottom of her bayard, the whip retracted, leaving behind a pile of crushed robots that were piled up against the wall.

Lance shot Allura a playful smile as they continued running toward the hangar. “Have I ever told you that you are one of my most favorite people ever?”

Rolling her eyes, Allura shot back with a quip of her own. “You can tell me that when we get out of here safe and sound.”

Making a quick turn around a corner and then another, the impressive forms of the blue and red lion quickly came into view as the two of them rushed into the hanger. A quick pang of suspicion ate at Lance’s gut after as a quick surveillance of the empty Galra hanger—not a single fighter jet was to be seen. Even when they had arrived, Lance had felt that there was just something off about the entire set up but had shoved those feelings aside. There wasn’t even a single Galra robot or soldier that was stationed in the hanger either; one would think that it would make sense to have at least a couple here, that way their escape wouldn’t be as easy. But something...something kept bugging him.

Quickly turning at the sound of pounding footsteps behind him, Lance lifted his blaster and aimed at the robots who were crowding around the entrance of the hanger, a single one not daring to step forth. He fired off a couple of shots as he walked backward; Allura raced to the side of her own Lion.

“Lance!” Allura shouted out his name; he could hear the metallic whir of the mouth of the red lion slowly descending. It’s mouth parting to reveal the ramp that lead up to the cockpit.

Turning on his heels, Lance could taste freedom on his tongue, smell Hunk’s cooking, and hear whatever topic it was that caught Pidge’s interest for the day rattling in his ear. But his eyes didn’t land on the imposing form of his own lion but the smooth face of what appeared to be a Galra woman—though Lance really couldn’t tell. The last time he mistook an alien inhabitant for the wrong gender on a planet that the paladins had been protecting from a Galra fleet, it had ended with a slap to his face and Hunk and Pidge rolling on the ground in laughter as the alien had spewed curses in his face. Coran had silently appeared behind him as he tossed an arm around Lance’s shoulder and spewed on about his youthful years where he had once—like Lance—mistook a rather handsome Solanlian from the planet Bellogal for a woman when they, in fact, had been a man. Coran’s brows had pinched together as he fondly twirled the end of his moustache as he mused about the fact that anyone would have made such a mistake after all; the Solanlian’s were a dessert people where the only way to tell a man or a woman apart was by the length of their tusks. An easy mistake.

The alien in front of Lance however was no Solanlian; she was tall, taller than Shiro or Hunk by easily a foot. She wore the typical Galra armor, except hers had a hood that was drawn up and slightly obscured her face; her face was several shades of blue with a single splotch of purple that started from her forehead and came down to the top of her mouth. Where there should have been eyes there were none. The only indication that what Lance was looking at was a face was the jagged shape of her mouth that eerily reminded him of Zarkon’s own and a pair of slits just a few inches above it that he presumed were nostrils.

Reacting quickly he pointed his gun at her chest as her long tail swished behind her. A black cat seemingly appeared from thin air as it hopped upon her shoulder, its blue tipped ears slightly twitching as she held her arm outward in Lance’s direction.

Curling his index finger around the trigger to fire off a shot into her chest, Lance slowly squeezed as his body went stiff all at once. His index finger shook against the trigger as his entire body followed suit with the sudden spasm; a cold sweat broke out on the surface of his skin as he felt himself being pulled apart mentally as a thousand voices whispering in his mind.

Allura, who had been quickly working her way up the ramp of her own lion, turned around to see Lance’s entire body quiver as a Galra female with a cat upon her shoulder stood in front of him, her arm outstretched toward his face. The hold Lance had on his blaster slackened as the weapon fell from his grip and onto the floor. She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his knees buckling as he dropped to the floor. She watched as his helmet smacked against the solid metal with a sickening sound that immediately made her mouth go dry and left a bitter taste upon her tongue.

“Lance!” The bayard in her hand was already glowing as she quickly turned around, fury boiling in her veins as she stared down at Lance’s still body. Was he dead? Or just unconscious? She couldn’t tell if he was even breathing.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as Shiro’s voice rang in her ears.

“Allura? What’s going on? Why aren’t you and Lance out of that ship already?” 

Her throat burned as she attempted to run down the hatch of her lion; she had barely lifted a foot when she felt an intense pressure. Whipping her head to the left, she could see the hatch door of the Galra ship opening; the loud sound created by the different atmospheric pressures within the ship and outside in space was deafening as she screamed. She felt herself floating as the differences in pressure sucked her out into space. The blue lion groaned as its claws dug into the floor of the ship, but despite its best efforts, the lion was pulled into space with her.

“Lance!” Her throat felt raw and scratchy as she floated in the ether. Her jetpack glowed as she straightened out and aimed toward the open hatch of the ship. Spluttering to life, she shot forward as anything that wasn’t tied down in the ship was sucked out into space. A robot flew over her head as she kicked herself off of a large crate full of whatever it was that the ship carried. She could see the red lion slowly being pulled toward the open hatch, its claws scraping against the floor, sending sparks flying as it dug in. “Lance!” Allura screamed again. Her voice was small against the echoes of space as she aimed for the hatch door; she could see that the Galra woman had bent down and reached out toward Lance’s neck with a clawed hand. “LANCE!” Allura’s voice was raw as she watched the hatch of the ship snap shut, separating her from Lance and the red lion.

“Allura, what happened?” Shiro’s voice rang in her ears as her throat contracted with a tight pressure. She could feel something burning on her cheeks and feel a wetness that was slowly fogging up her helmet.

“They got Lance,” she quickly responded, focusing her attention on the hangar doors. Allura screamed as multiple purple beams were shot at in her direction.

Glancing up, she could see two small Galra ships aiming at her as they raced toward her position. Two separate green and yellow beams smashed into the sides of the ships, causing them to spin as one of the beams hit the ship dead center and the other clipped the second ship’s wing. The two ships crashed into one another, creating a large, fiery explosion in the distance.

The green and yellow lion came into view as the black lion flew above Allura’s head, dancing and maneuvering through a bunch of laser beams that were being shot at it from a cluster of Galra ships. Allura could sense more were arriving as she heard Shiro give an order to retreat.

“Allura, get back to your lion and fall back. That goes for everyone else as well.”

“But—” Allura began to protest, her eyes flickering back to the shut hatch door.

“—We’ll worry about Lance later,” Shiro intercepted her, “right now our biggest concern is getting out of here, before more Galra ships come.”

Reluctantly glancing back at the hanger and toward the blue lion, Allura turned, her jetpack glowing as she flew away from the ship and instead toward the blue lion; her stomach twisted in tiny little knots with each foot she put between her and the ship.

Her thoughts turned to Lance as the blue lion opened her maw to allow Allura in. As she floated into the blue lion’s mouth, she gave one final glance backward at the ship as the lion slowly shut its jaw, delivering Allura into the darkness of its confines.

  


Slow measured steps clapped against the metal of the ship as Acxa stared down at the blue paladin of Voltron. His body was lying still against the ship’s floor. One would have assumed he was dead, but from the way Narti leaned over his body, her hand outstretched and hovering over his head, she knew better than to assume the worst case.

Zethrid and Ezor came to a stop behind her. Looking down at the blue paladin and glancing over his weapon, Acxa turned her head at the sound of another pair of footsteps coming to a stop just slightly beside her.

“Sir.” Acxa stared at Lotor’s face. His eyes were slightly narrowed, his chin slightly pointed toward the ground as his eyes raked over the blue paladin’s back. “What should we do?”

Lotor’s lips parted slightly as his eyes flickered up toward the red lion. A red energy shield surrounded it, protecting it from any form of attack or intruder that attempted to breach it. 

“Tell team Voltron—” Lotor spun on his heels as he placed his hands behind his back and clasped them together. His boots clacked against the metal floor as he slowly walked away. His long hair swayed slightly behind his back as his blue eyes darkened; a thousand calculated moves burned in the forefront of his mind; a cunning grin stretched across his face. “—that we just won.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based on a single line from a famous poem by Wilfred Owen called Apologia Pro Poemate Meo that describes the horrors of war and how it can lead to a desensitization toward death and a lack of emotion and I felt that this line not only described Lotor so deeply, but applied to all the members of Voltron as well.


	2. Whatever You Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get a little serious this chapter.

Coldness seeped into his skin, a type of coldness that seared the surface of his cheek. Lance jerked awake against the icy steel of the floor, his eyes fluttering open to a cell that was awash in a soft, purple light. Moving his head slightly, Lance’s right cheek stayed pressed against the floor as he peered towards the thick metal door in front of him. Undoubtedly, it was sealed shut with a webwork of purple lines that connected the door to the generator that powered the ship.

Shoulders aching, Lance tried to move his arms, but the faint, odd humming of energy and a pull at his wrists told him he wasn’t going to be moving his arms anytime soon. Feeling the pressure of the cuffs on his wrists, Lance used the weight of his frame to push himself into an upright position; he sat firmly on the cell floor, his legs splayed out in an odd position that made him feel as equally uncomfortable as being handcuffed.

A pale pallor swept over his face as he realized a distinct...foreignness to his entire body that he had never noticed before. His mind felt like a pieces of his brain had been ripped out and replaced in the wrong spots as he attempted to shake the away the fog clouding his mind, but failed. His bayard was gone; the familiar weight of the weapon on his personage or in his hand was nowhere to be felt.

There was a faint pounding in his temples and a peculiarity in the vast fields of his mind that he couldn’t shake. His waist felt naked without the presence of his bayard strapped to it and undoubtedly it was now in the hands of his captors. He let out a puffed grunt of annoyance as he drew his legs in slightly, sitting in a position that would remind one of a siren perched atop of a rock pelted by splashes of seawater that would erode the surface. He shifted his right leg so that his foot was placed firmly against the ground and used the weight of it to push himself upward into a standing position.

Now giving himself a better view of the room, he glanced around, taking in the fairly cramped conditions of the dimly lit room when the door to his cell slid open with a hiss. He whipped his head around to face the two Galra robots who marched toward him with methodical steps.

A protest burned in his throat as one reached out toward his arm; it’s cold metal fingers wrapped around his armor covered bicep, roughly dragging him out of the cell with the other robot following behind them. They lead him through the winding corridors, past rows of identical cells and up some flights of stairs. Lance quietly took it all in, attempting to map out every single little detail he could catch as they passed by and filed it away for later.

The Galra robots dragged him toward a door that was slightly bigger than all the other ones he had seen before. It slid apart to reveal a large room that looked like a combination of a main hub and a throne room. A dais was built in the center of the room, and on top of it was a throne in which none other than Lotor himself sat.

There were four women who surrounded Lotor’s throne.

On of of them was a woman that looked to be about Keith’s height with blue skin and hair that seemed to be a shade of bluish-purple that framed her face. She stood right beside Lotor. Another, who was easily bulkier and heavier compared to Hunk, stood at the bottom of the dais, arms crossed in front of her chest and a disgusted sneer upon her face as Lance was dragged into the room. There was a woman who was lazily draped across one of the dais steps, her chin resting in the palm of her hands as she smiled curiously at him; her skin was splotched with red-orange hues. And finally, Lance’s eyes settled on the woman he had seen as he and Allura were attempting to escape from the ship. She stared at Lance, the type of stare that sent shivers up his skin despite her lack of eyes. The cat that he had seen as well was perched in her lap, its tail swishing through the air as she lazily scratched behind its head.

Lance’s mouth soured as his thoughts turned to Allura, and his nostrils flared as he took in a deep, shuddering breath. What had happened to her? He could have sworn he heard her shouting his name before he had collapsed. A nervous weight settled in his gut as his thoughts turned to the possibility of her having been captured as well. 

It made him shiver until he heard her voice calling out his name.

“Lance!”

Looking up, Lance finally took note of the projection screen that floated above the communication panel in the room. A group of Galra guards were clustered around the panel, and on the screen was Allura’s face, her brows pinched with worry and there was a tiredness to her eyes that Lance had never seen before. Coran was right beside her, his mouth set into a grim determined line with his hands clasped behind his back. 

Allura breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes softening as her gaze settled upon Lance’s face. Her gaze flickered to Lotor and that look of relief that washed over her was quickly replaced by a cold fury. Her gaze hardened and her words had a tinge of steel to them.

“Don’t you dare lay a single finger on him,  _ Lotor _ .” She spat out his name like something dirty and foreign had touched her tongue and lips.

From his languid position on his throne, a smirk stretched across Lotor’s lips. His left cheek was resting against his fist, he lethargically tore his gaze away from his lap where he had been examining Lance’s bayard to Allura’s face projected on the screen.

Lance noticed one of the women—the tallest one—uncrossed her arms and took a threatening step forward; an irritated growl bubbled in her throat, her eyes darkened and the muscles in her body tensed up. She looked ready to punch her way through the screen as if that would soothe her irritation against Allura.

“Zethrid,” Lotor called out the woman’s name, his eyes flickering in her direction.

A muscle in Zethrid’s jaw ticked as she took a step backward to where she had been originally standing before, crossing her arms over her chest once more. She bared her teeth in Allura’s direction; if the princess had noticed, she made no comment of it or to Lotor.

“Princess.” Lotor’s gaze finally settled on Allura’s face; it was impassive, a block of unblemished marble compared to an oil painting that was slightly weathered by age. “I won’t lay a finger on him, but I can’t say the same for my personnel.”

As if to demonstrate his point, Lotor glanced over toward the robot whose hand was still wrapped around his bicep. He waved lazily in its direction. Lance gasped out in pain as the robot’s grip on his bicep tightened; he could feel the tremor of the muscle as it cried out under the pressure that forced him down onto his knees. He grit his teeth as Allura’s blue eyes widened in shock, before quickly darkening, the color of turbulent waters beneath the grey clouds of a storm.

Pidge’s concerned voice crackled in the background. “ _ What’s going on? Is Lance alright? _ ”

Sucking in a breath, Allura hissed out, “What do you want?”

Breathing deeply, Lotor lifted his head away from his fist. His eyes clouded over as he pressed the tips of his fingers together, and drumming them against one another, he raked his gaze over Allura’s face. “Princess, don’t play dumb. You know what I want. The real question is whether you will give me what I asked for?”

Fury colored Allura’s face, her lips pursed as she prepared to levy a response in Lotor’s direction.

The prince, however, rolled his hand in her direction. “Please save your breath, Princess, as much as I would adore hearing your riveting speech about how you’ll never hand over the rest of your lions, that won’t work on me.” There was a slight raise of his brow with a hushed silence falling over Allura. Lotor kept his eyes focused upon her face, a defiant air settled into the room; he waited for her to say something more. Anything. Even a feeble protest that would cause her voice to take on that shrill, haughty tone of a princess who wasn’t used to being disrespected in such a manner. But Lotor chose to have the last word instead. “I’ll give you time to reconsider. But do think carefully about my offer, Princess Allura.”

Lotor waved to a guard to cut the communication feed, and Lance watched as Allura’s and Coran’s face disappeared from the holographic projection.

Grabbing the bayard that he had placed down upon his lap, Lotor turned and dropped the weapon in Axca’s hands before walking down the dais and towards the captive paladin.

Lance tensed up in his captors’ hold as Lotor inched toward him. Just a few inches were put between them as Lotor came to a stop. He peered down at him, his hands clasped behind his back as the Galra prince’s eyes swept over his face; he was studying him, trying to gauge more information about Lance in the span of a few minutes than Lance knew about the prince.

A smirk stretched across the prince’s lips, an attempt to be friendly that came off as calculating and cold.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying your time here.” 

Clucking his tongue and cocking his head at the same time, Lance narrowed his eyes. “It’s been really charming. I really enjoyed waking up without my weapon, my hands cuffed behind my back, and Terminator 1 and 2 here—” Lance jerked his chin at the robots flanking him for emphasis “—treating me like I’m a bag of garbage they’re about to throw out.”

A flicker of surprise burned in Lotor’s eyes, the corners of his lips twitched even as his face remained impassive. “Well I’ll assure you that the remainder of your stay here will be a  _ pleasant _ one. But only if you give me something that I want.”

“Oh?” Lance’s brows scrunched up together. “Like finding a nice airlock to shoot you out of? Because I can do—”

“Zethrid,” Lotor barked out as he slightly turned his head in the direction of the the tall woman.

Zethrid took a few quick, hulking strides in Lance’s direction, her footsteps causing the metal beneath his feet to quiver, sending shockwaves up his legs. He didn’t have much time to react as Zethrid cracked her knuckles in her hands. 

A sharp pain bloomed on the right side of his face as his neck swiveled sharply to his left; Lance could feel his lip split apart under the pressure of Zethrid’s fist. His eyes were wide with shock as Zethrid pulled back her fist, a few droplets of Lance’s blood coating her knuckle. She loomed over him, her fist poised and ready to give him another punch when Lotor held up his hand. “That’s enough, Zethrid.”

She gave Lotor a sharp nod of her head, before taking a step back from the two of them.

Lance’s entire body was quaking as he shakily jutted his tongue between his lips and swiped at the smear of blood that coated his bottom lip from the bleeding cut he now sported. Lifting his head to expose his bright red cheek underneath the glow of the interior lights, Lance glared at Lotor. His cheek throbbed with pain but that did little to diminish the anger that blazed in his eyes.

“Why would I give you anything that you want?” He spat, slightly wincing as he did so, his cut lip felt like it had split apart even more.

Lotor breathed deeply as he crouched down to Lance’s position, staring into the paladin’s eyes. The prince lifted a hand and reached behind Lance’s head to grab a fistful of his hair; tugging harshly, the prince forced Lance’s head back, exposing the wide expanse of his neck. “Why? Because you’re an insignificant pawn in this entire game; you’re no more than a means to an end in order for me to achieve Voltron and in turn get what my father desires.”

“That’s an odd choice of words, don’t you think?” Lance smirked as something dark flickered across Lotor’s face. It seemed he’d hit the bullseye. “What?” Lance blinked. “Did I hit a little too close to home?”

The smirk on Lance’s face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The ghostly sensation of fingers prodding at his mind caused bile to rapidly bubble in the recesses of his throat. That faint sensation of a thousand voices whispering pressed down upon his mind. His face contorted in a building unease as those fingers sorted through his mind, looking for something, anything; he didn’t know what.

Flashes of memories burned behind his eyes. The elation he had felt the first time he had piloted Blue, when he and the other paladins had stumbled upon Allura and Coran, when they had found the Blade of Ma—

Lance ripped himself away from the memory, a struggle that lead to a cold sweat breaking out across the surface of his skin. He forced himself to focus on other memories like the taste of guava lingering on his tongue; a sweet taste that pleasantly coated the back of his tongue and throat. Or the smell of salt water tickling at his nose as the cry of birds above his head competed with the noise of the water splashing against the sand. If he tilted his head slightly, he could feel the faint warmth of the sun lapping against the exposed expanses of his skin as he dug his toes into the heated sand beneath his feet.

His entire body sagged in his captors’ grip as those phantom fingers pulled away from his mind. Lotor turned his head in Narti’s direction as the mute and blind Galra hybrid gave him a single shake of her head.

Turning his attention back to Lance—sweat shone upon the surface of  his skin, giving him a fevered and exhausted appearance—Lotor’s eyes narrowed, lips stretched into an annoyed scowl. “It seemed I misjudged you, Paladin.” Lotor released his hold on Lance’s head, causing him to slump forward, his chin touching his chest. “Take him back to his cell.”

Lance was jerked upwards; his feet, having turned to the consistency of jelly, rendered him incapable of walking for the moment, forcing the robotic guard to drag him out of the room by his arm. They dragged him through the same winding corridors they had walked through earlier until they reached his cell. The doors slid apart to reveal the dark, cramped room that was awash with that purple, alien coloration that all the Galra ships had. Lance barely let out a sound as the guard tossed him into the room. He landed on his side; his injured cheek smashed against the floor, causing him to let out a pained groan as the door slid shut behind him, plunging him into darkness.

 

Lance was doubled over, his back pressed against the side of the hard metal slab that served as a bed. He rubbed absentmindedly at his left wrist; a guard had come into the cell and removed the cuffs but had quickly left right after.

His stomach rumbled, reminding Lance that it had been hours since he had last eaten. He chuckled softly to himself, wondering what time it was. His internal clock told him that it had to be dinner time at this point. Hunk would’ve been in the castle’s kitchen at this hour, whipping up something edible for his friends from the castle’s food preserves. He supposed Pidge would be worried about him as he was the closest thing she had to a brother right now. He knew she’d probably tuck herself away, either in a corner of the castle or in her room, huddled over something that didn’t need to be fixed or tinkered with, but she’d do it anyway so no one would see the whirlwind of emotions on her face. 

Shiro would probably be in his room or glancing up at Black, trying to collect his thoughts and emotions, trying to keep everything together and keep ahold his grasp of the strong image of a leader that he presented to everyone, despite the fact that inside he was probably as torn up as Allura about him being held captive. If anything, Shiro would be drudging up buried and repressed memories all over again and that just made Lance’s mouth sour. Thinking about his friends caused an overwhelming sense of sadness to wash over him.

Allura wouldn’t be faring any better; she would hide herself away from the others, especially from Coran so that she could allow her emotions to bubble forth to the surface and spill out. She would be worried, anxious, and most of all blame herself for everything that had happened to him.

Coran would probably have locked himself away in the Com room, trying to get in contact with the members of the Blade of Marmora, in order to inform Keith and the Galra members of what had become of him. Keith, especially Keith, would be livid, seeking to put the blame on anything that he could in order to quench and mask the fact that he was upset.

The door to his cell slid open, allowing a block of light from the interior of the ship to illuminate his cell. Standing in the doorway was Lotor and his female companion that had been standing beside his throne in what had felt like mere minutes ago. She carried a tray in her hands, and from where Lance was sitting he could smell the rich aromas of food; his stomach growled once more as he quickly sunk his teeth into his lower lip, slightly wincing as the coppery taste of the blood welled onto the tip of his tongue. 

Both of them stepped into the cramped cell, the door remaining open behind them. Lance observed, just in case the robots guarding his cell needed to rush in to restrain him if he so much as breathed in a way that dissatisfied Lotor.

The woman placed the tray down on the ground beside Lance’s feet, gave him a disapproving look before Lotor dismissed her out of the cell, leaving him and Lance alone in there together. 

Lance glanced down at the tray with disgust; there was a bowl of what appeared to be soup, the odd green colored liquid swirling around the bowl as a plume of steam rose up from it. There was a plate piled with a log of brown striped meat and a small orange loaf that was bespeckled with bright purple dots. His stomach growled again reminding him that he was hungry, but he wasn’t about to eat food offered to him by the enemy.

“It isn’t poisoned. If I wanted you dead I could have ordered it by now.” Proving his point, Lotor bent down and grabbed the orange loaf from off the tray, and tearing a small piece of it off, he popped the tiny morsel into his mouth and chewed slowly. Staring Lance down, he replaced the loaf back onto the tray and swallowed, a few seconds passed as he simply raised a brow at the paladin as if to say: ‘ _ see, I didn’t die _ .’

Lance still warily eyed the food, causing Lotor to give a small displeased shrug of his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

“What do you want?” Scowling at the prince, a flicker of unease burned in Lance’s eyes as Lotor crouched down in front of him, putting the two of them on an equal level.

“Better yet, Paladin, what is it that you want?”

Lance sucked in a breath, the cold air sending a quiver of pain to his cheek. Suspicion worked its way through his veins, but yet, Lotor continued, “I can give you anything you want. Wealth, fame, glory, power. Anything that you desire and I’ll give it to you.”

“What do you want?”

Lotor clucked his tongue, similar to a mother chastising their forgetful child. “I wonder if all the paladins of Voltron have a tendency to ask such trivial questions. You know what it is I want.”

Refusing to verbally respond, Lance did the next best thing. He puckered up his lips and leaned slightly forward as a wad of spittle flew from his lips and landed on Lotor’s left cheek. The prince barely blinked as he stood up and whipped Lance’s spit away; glaring down at him, Lotor’s eyes were cold as his irritation rolled off of his body in waves. “Reconsider my offer,  _ paladin _ . I can give you whatever it is you want; whatever your heart desires.” Lotor paused, a quick thump of a heartbeat. “Such as the comforts of your home planet?” 

The feeling of warm sand beneath his feet, the cry of birds flapping above his head, the smell of the salt from the ocean felt astoundingly real.

“Or your family?”

Lance swallowed, forcing the feelings that were bubbling up in his chest down into the recesses of where they had come from. He could feel the faint warmth of his mother’s fingers treading through his hair or the scent of steak searing in a pan after sitting in marinade all night made of garlic, lime juice, salt, and pepper as his father made his world famous  _ Bistec de palomilla _ . His little nephew and niece would have been running around the yard with their black lab, their shrill, childish voices screaming out for him to come play with them.

A pang of longing stabbed him in the gut. Even as he stared Lotor down, he knew what option he was willing to choose. 

“What makes you think I would sell my teammates out for that? I’m certain you wouldn’t do the same for yours.”

His eyes darkening, Lotor sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a few brief moments to hide the steely look they had taken on. When Lotor opened them again, there was a dangerous tinge to his words that hadn’t been there before. “You know nothing about me.” With a pivot of his heels, Lotor turned and strode out of the cell. The doors slid shut, plunging Lance back into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment, kudo or a carton of fries down below.


	3. Fall Down Seven Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to really convey the phrase: 七転び八起き as much as I could in English but there's something poetic about the phrase that get's lost in English. Including the fact that there's a lot of ways to translate it (though some of the translations were very literal and extremely confusing). But I tried to go with the best translation that I felt fit Shiro and his past.
> 
> Also there's no other ships that are canon in this fic, besides Lotor and Lance, I'm doing it in a style in which the show is built. You get interactions that you can infer in anyway you wish.
> 
> Also there's a lot of feels in this chapter, most of them Allura's own personal anguish. Also shout to anyone that recognizes the names of the planets in this chapter, because I'm a huge sci-fi nerd that's too lazy to come up with planet names.

The doors to the lounge slid open, revealing to Shiro the back of Allura’s head and the sound of sniffling. She stood at the only window the lounge had to offer, beyond her a tiny satellite planet rotated slightly in the distance; splotches of blue, green and brown made up the coloration of the planet and he had heard Coran earlier referred to it as Wreath. A small planet he had remarked, that had a whole slew of humanoid-like people with horns gracing their head; a kind and friendly race that was naturally embroiled in a conflict with both its neighboring planet and the biggest one in this current galaxy—Landfall.

They were only passing through the galaxy, a measure to keep Lotor off their trail; a measure that none of the other paladins had wanted to bring up the secondary nature of—they needed to move to mask their position in case Lance gave away their coordinates...or if Lotor tortured it out of him first.

Shiro had shuddered at the thought; his own memories of being held captive in Galra control and the pain his body had to endure under his captivity had felt like a ghostly hand that had dragged its fingers across the surface of his skin. The ghostly smell of blood and death had nearly made him wretch, but a few quick, deep breaths had him calmed down.

Allura’s head was bent forward, the back of her hands quickly rubbing away the tears that leaked from her eyes. The sound of her mouse squeaking caused Shiro to look down at his feet; they raced around him before piling up on each other’s shoulder, the smallest of the mice—Chulatt—the mouse with blue fur and blue eyes shook a paw at Shiro before quickly shaking its head. A warning for Shiro to leave Allura alone for the time being. But Allura lifted her head away from her hands, turned her head and gazed in Shiro’s direction.

An embarrassed blush settled itself upon Shiro’s cheeks as he took a step back. Allura shot up from her seat, keeping her eyes downcast to the floor, she slightly shook her head. “Please, Shiro, I implore you to stay.”

Swallowing thickly, Shiro paused for a few seconds, cleared his throat and began to speak. “Are you okay?”

Allura nodded despite using a single finger to brush away the stray tears that were falling down her cheeks. “Yes, I’m quite fine. This is just—” a lie attempted to tunnel it’s way past her lips, but failed to even touch the air.

A frown pulled at Shiro’s lips, causing him to cross his arms over his chest. “Allura...if you’re not, then I can just leave and give you some time and space.” That only caused Allura to shake her head further as more tears glistened on her slightly pink tinged cheeks.

“No.” The word came out in a hushed whisper. “I don’t think I could handle being alone right now.” The tears spilled freely from the corner of her eyes now as a choked sob spilled out into the air from between her lips, Shiro stood as still as a sentry as he watched the Princess break down into tears.

Shiro glanced at her back nervously before his gaze flickered down to the mice who had disassembled from their tower and now each had their paws pressed against their hips as Chulatt squeaked furiously at Shiro. Shooting them a quick apologetic look, Shiro walked forward until he reached Allura’s back. Hesitatingly, he reached out with his non-Galra hand but stopped himself shy of touching her shoulder. Allura’s shoulders shook with each sob that racked its way through her body. Shiro glanced away from Allura, choosing to look out of the large window that took up an entire wall of the lounge; on any other day when they had landed on a planet, the window would have provided them with a view of the natural landscape. But usually, when Shiro was in here by himself, he would find himself gazing out towards the wide expanse of space, the twinkling stars and the colorful exterior of the planets the castle would fly by. He never got tired of looking out that window, but today...he found no excitement from it.

He found no joy in looking out at space when Lance wasn’t by their side and he could tell everyone was hurting by Lance’s missing presence. He swallowed thickly, his fingers curling toward his palm when he relaxed them and placed his hand upon Allura’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Shiro let out a sharp surprised noise as Allura turned, pressing her balled up fists against his chest and burying her face against his chest. Shiro stiffened, surprised by the Princess’ reaction. He could feel wetness seeping into the fabric of his shirt from her tears, he hesitated for a few brief seconds, before pressing her closer to his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin as he slowly wrapped his arms around her body.

Just then the door to the lounge slid open, Pidge walked in. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Allura and Shiro pressed together; Allura pushed herself out of Shiro’s grasp as his arms fell to his sides. A tinge of pink worked its way onto both of their cheeks as embarrassment flooded their veins. Holding up her hands in mid-air, Pidge shook her head. “Pretend I was never here.” Turning around, Pidge left the room, the doors sliding shut behind her.

Wiping the stray tears away from her eyes, Allura chuckled to herself. “How do you make it look so easy?” Shiro frowned at her words, his brows pinching together as he curiously gazed at her causing her to shake her head and clarify what she had meant. “I mean, leading others—how do you make it look so easy?”

Shiro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest once more he turned his gaze toward the window. There was something firm about the way he set his jaw and the darkened fire smoldering in his eyes. “I don’t—I mean, leading isn’t easy. There are times I thought I failed as a leader to the other paladins, times I wondered if it would be better for someone else to take up the mantle instead and lead Voltron.”

“Someone like Keith?”

Shiro nodded. “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing and feel like I’m aiming blindly in the dark.”

A forlorn smile pulled at the edges of Allura’s lips. “Sometimes I think that I failed at being both a paladin and a leader.”    

Frowning Shiro shook his head and reached out to grip Allura’s shoulder again. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did!” Allura shouted, slapping away Shiro’s hand. Fresh tears were falling down her face. “If I had just tried a little harder—Lance wouldn’t have been being held as a hostage by Lotor.”

Shocked by her words, Shiro shook his head, a firm yet gentle tone laced his words. “You’re not at fault for that Allura.”

“Don’t you see, Shiro?” She sniffled, the tears falling down her cheeks like the hot-boiling rocks that fell down from the skies of Altea. “Everything is my fault; if I had just—” Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as Shiro gripped her wrist in his hand and pulled her toward his chest in a hug.

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Allura.” His breath tickled the exterior of her ear. “None of us. None of us could have seen what would have happened to Lance and prevented it. We can’t always go around preventing everything before it happens, we’re not capable of doing things like that.”

“But I am—” Allura attempted to protest feebly causing a bitter smile to stretch across Shiro’s lips.

“No you’re not. None of us are to blame.” Sighing, Shiro smiles bitterly as a phrase he often heard his mother tell him gently emerged from the recesses of his memories. “You know, back on Earth there was something my mom would use to tell me a lot as a child.”

Tilting her head backward so that she could get a good look at Shiro’s face, Allura’s brows raised in a curious and inquisitive glance. “What was it?”

Looking a little embarrassed, Shiro glanced away from Allura as the foreign words from his youth settled onto his tongue. “ _ Nana korobi ya oki _ .” Shiro lifted his robotic hand to scratch at the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly pink at the rusty use of his native language. 

Wrinkling her nose, a small smile replaced itself on Allura’s lips. “I thought on Earth humans only speak English? Or that language Lance sometimes let’s slip. I believe it’s called, Spanish?”

A soft chuckle poked at the air as Shiro playfully shook his head. “On Earth some do, but there’s a lot of languages and dialects there that make everyone unique.”

Allura nodded her head, her curiosity now peaked about Earth’s languages and dialects as Shiro called them, but she would file that fascination away for a later point and a better time. “The words you just spoke, what do they mean?”

Shiro frowned, scratching the back of his neck as he did so in an attempt to come up with a suitable English translation of the phrase. “Well, I suppose in English it would mean something like  _ fall down seven times, stand up eight _ .” Allura nodded her head at the poetic phrase. “My parents are from a tiny archipelago on Earth called Japan, when we moved when I was just a kid, my mom would repeat this phrase to me whenever I got upset.”

“Did it work?”

Shiro nodded. “It always did.” Patting her on the back, Shiro pulled away from the embrace and began to walk out of the lounge.

“Shiro?” He turned at the sound of Allura calling out his name. A smile rested on her face. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

Shiro nodded. “Allura, don’t worry. We’re going to get Lance back.” And with that, Shiro turned and left the lounge, the soft hiss of the doors behind him let Allura knew that he had left as she turned to face the window.

As the castle slowly drifted past the planets inhabiting the galaxy she clasped her hands together and sent out a silent prayer to the universe. She hoped that they would get Lance back soon. Safe and sound. She repeated the prayer over and over until she truly believed it. Letting out a sigh of relief, Allura pulled her hands apart and pressed her palm flat against the glass.

Lance was going to come home soon, she was certain of that.


	4. Pattern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always say I'm going to update this before a new season of Voltron comes out but I should learn to never make promises because the writing gods just love to make me suffer. I also upgraded this fic to explicit because uh....this fic is going to go to some smexy places....at some point....one day.

Fingers drummed against the arms of the throne as Lotor stared into the distance, his left cheek pressed against his fist as his thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles into the sides of the Bayard that was resting upon his lap. His brows were pinched together, a look of intense concentration upon his face.

“Sir,” Acxa was at his side, “what should we do with the paladin?”

Lotor didn’t respond, his fingers continuing to drum against his seat. The princess’ words still rang in his head.  _ Don’t you dare lay a single finger on him _ . Slowly rising out of his seat, he walked down the dias; slow, measured steps that conveyed no urgency of a man that knew the positions of every game piece on a board. “Zethrid. Narti. With me.” The two women fell in line behind him. As the doors to the throne room slid apart, shadows flickered across Lotor’s face, a juxtaposition to the light from the ship that too highlighted portions of his features. A cunning smirk stretched across his face. He would appease the princess’ request...it all just depended on how long the paladin would be able to prevent himself from cracking.

 

Absentmindedly rubbing at his left wrist, the skin tender and bruised with the outline of the cuffs that had restrained him. Lance’s stomach rumbled in protest as his gaze flickered away from the tray of food he had yet to touch. He couldn’t bring himself to trust Lotor nor any other Galra on this ship, sure Lotor had attempted to prove to him that his food wasn’t tampered with, but that still meant he wasn’t going to take any chances to explore what sorts of drugs the Galra could cook up.

His stomach rumbled again, earning an annoyed grunt from Lance as he tipped his head back against the hard block of foreign material that made up the bed in his cell. His tongue darted out between his lips, licking at the cracked skin and the scar on his lip from where Zethrid had punched him. Closing his eyes in an attempt to ignore the pain in his stomach, a similar memory washed over him; of the evenings spent in his room at the Garrison when he would skip meals whenever his personal workload provided very little opportunities for him to swing by the cantina before the cooks wiped down the kitchen and went home for the night.

But unfortunately, the hunger clawing at his stomach didn’t compare to then. Slowly opening his eyes, he wondered how long it had been since his capture? A few hours? A few days? He knew it couldn’t have been more than at least two or three with everything that had happened. It didn’t help that time felt so distorted with the lack of company around him and this constant fear that was burrowing its way into his mind about how he didn’t know what to expect when the door to his cell slid apart again.

As if the universe was mocking him. The door slid apart, revealing Lotor along with two of his generals at his side—the one that he had called Zethrid and whom had punched Lance and the other who he was certain had freaky telekinetic powers—the three of them walked into the cell. The small box feeling far more cramped than when it was just Lance and Lotor stuck in the space together. At the sight of the three of them, his entire body tensed up, his fingers curling inward to his palms as he prepared to put up a fight.

Lotor’s eyes narrowed at this subtle shift in his body, with a slight movement of his hand, he motioned for Zethrid and Narti to take a step back. They did.

“So, paladin. Have you made a decision yet?”

Clucking his tongue, Lance kept his gaze fixed on Lotor’s generals. “Yea, I have. Got to say, I’m not very interested.”

A quick smile flashed across Lotor’s face. For a quick second, it seemed friendly; a smile that was shy, yet vulnerable. That notion was quickly wiped from Lance’s mind as Lotor coldly stared at him, his eyes devoid of any emotion as his lips parted and he gave Zethrid an order. “Strap him to the bed.”

Shouting in protest, Lance curled his hands into fists as Zethrid moved toward him. Zethrid reached out, grabbing Lance by the collar of his shirt she lifted him into the air. Lance swung at her, his fist feebly connecting with the side of her face. She barely flinched, just let out a bark of a laugh as she pinned him down onto the hard slab of a bed. Keeping him pinned there, Lance turned his head to the side as thick, black straps materialized out of the slab, wrapping around his upper torso, his waist, and legs. Lance’s throat constricted as Narti began to take a step toward him.

“Get away from me!” He screamed. She stepped closer, her arm lifting and her clawed fingers pointed at Lance’s forehead. “Get away from me!”

Entire body stiffening as she pressed a single finger against his skin, Lance gritted his teeth, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He could feel her digging in around his mind, searching for answers that would possibly appease Lotor.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus on positive memories. He could feel it, the warmth of his family surrounding him, his mother pressing her hand against the side of his head as she pulled him closer to her so that her lips were planted against his cheeks. His  _ abuelita  _ was busy scolding his nephew and niece as with small hands they attempted to reach the plate full of buñuelos, the plate of syrup and powdered covered donut-like treats a temptation for them to eat compared to the other plates of food covering the table. The smell of roasted pork tickled Lance’s nose as the twinkle of Christmas lights wrapped around the Christmas tree caught Lance’s eyes. The pile of presents underneath it as equally as captivating as the tree itself. Lance’s father cracked a joke about how the pig had to travel a long way in order to make it for Noche Buena.

Lotor stepped closer to the bed, his eyes gazing silently at Lance’s face. The paladin’s eyes were clenched closed, sweat dotting his face, his teeth grinding against one another. “Show me.” He ordered Narti, who complied. Raising her other hand she laid it down on Lotor’s shoulder, giving him a glimpse of the memories that Lance was experiencing.

The memory changed this time to the warm sands of a beach. The rays from the sun warm on Lance’s skin as the cheerful shrieks of his niece and nephew reached his ears. Turning his face upward to the sun, a smile stretched across his face as the splashing of waves and the scent of salt water burrowed itself into his being.

A new memory. This time of Lance running through his front yard, the tall blades of grass that needed to be cut brushed against the hem of his jeans. Pounding up the porch steps and across the porch, he pushed open the front door as a grin stretched across his face.

“Mom!” The shout made his mother slightly jump.

His mother, startled at the loud noise, frowned at him as she propped the broom she was using to sweep the floor against her hip. Her lips parted, prepared to admonish her son for nearly breaking the door when she stopped, her eyes zeroing in on the folded piece of paper clutched in his hand.

“Is that—” She began, but her words were cut off by Lance’s nod.

“I got in!” He shouted as his mother let out a squeal of joy and rushed at him. The broom clattered to the floor as he found himself being wrapped into a hug. Slightly taller than his mom, Lance buried his face into her shoulder, he could smell the scent of fried plantain wafting off her clothes mixed in with the rich smell of dirt from the garden.

“I love you.” She whispered, her breath tickling his hair.

“I love you too.”

Lance shook, bile rising in his throat as Lotor ordered Narti to stop. The Galra hybrid pulled her hands away from the both of them. The straps that covered Lance’s body retracted into the bed, slightly shaking, Lance fixed his gaze on Lotor’s face. The Galra prince clucked his tongue against his teeth. “We’ll resume this tomorrow.”

Swallowing, Lance said nothing as the three of them left his cell. The doors slid shut, plunging him back into the darkness. For the first time since Lance had left Earth, had left behind his family and everything he knew, he hiccuped as hot tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes. In the darkness Lance’s entire body shook against the bed as he threw an arm over his eyes, the tears leaving hot trails on his cheeks as he allowed them to fall.

 

Silently, Lotor stared into the distance. His eyes unfocused as he cupped his chin in his hand. Having retired to his room, he welcomed the silence that the room provided compared to the rest of the ship where he was incapable of relaxing. Reclining on his bed in the darkness of his room, he closed his eyes as a myriad of shapes and forms danced behind his eyes. The shapes and forms melding into the shapes and people he had seen from the paladin’s memories. Lotor’s eyes snapped open, the scent of food that he had never once tasted before in his life nor knew the name for seemed to linger in his room. The scent was startlingly clear as if he himself had been sitting in that warm room, filled with an emotional warmth that was as foreign to him as Earth itself.

There was a subtle warmth in his chest, that transfigured itself into a burning heat in his chest that made him scowl in discomfort. The startlingly clear memory of the paladin being embraced by that woman gave him a sense of discomfort that he couldn’t place any reasoning behind. 

_ Mom. _

That’s word made him scowl as it rattled around in his brain after hearing the paladin refer to the woman in his memories by that term. Flopping onto his bed, he stared up at the darkened ceiling; a pain settled itself into his chest that left a black hole in his heart.

_ Mom _ .

Why did such a simple word hurt so much? Rolling onto his side, his eyes fell upon the pile of books that wetter stacked neatly upon a small, dark table near his bed. Even in the darkness, he knew the name of the books printed upon the spine of cured hide, the letters golden scrawls that had been written long ago in a planet that was looking gone.

The burning in his chest only intensified as Lotor took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to roll onto his back as he stamped down upon long-repressed memories that were threatening to claw to the surface of his mind.

Pushing himself upright, he reached out for the book that was on top of the pile. Its cover was worn with use beneath his fingers as he thumbed the spine, his fingers tracing over the gold lettering that was slightly faded in some areas where he and the previous owner of these books had both done this ritual a thousand times over. Cracking open the tome, a faint, musty smell hit his nose. Fondness bubbled in his chest as he glanced over the antediluvian words printed upon faded pages that had long gone a pale shade of yellow in some spots. Eyes racking over words he had read before nearly a million times. Pressing his right hand to the page of the book, his fingers traced over the crease of a page, he could almost envision it in his mind as the previous owner—so lost within her thoughts—stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she reached up to tuck back a lock of hair that had slipped from her ponytail. She would have glanced up once she noticed that she was being watched, a dazzling smile that outshined even the brightest of supernovas would have slipped onto her face and she tipped her head back, her laugh would have sounded like the richest of songs.

Anger welled in his chest, replacing the warmth that had been burning inside of him just a few mere seconds before. A shout of frustration ripped itself out of his throat as long-forgotten pieces of advice rattled inside of his skull.

_ Emotion is what fuels the tainted blood running through your veins; it is weakness and to feel it means that you are weak. _

There was a deafening roar that buzzed in his ears; one that he didn’t realize was clawing itself out of his throat until he lifted his arm and chucked the book in his hand at the far wall. The book smacked against the wall, only to bounce off and crumple to the floor with a silent thud.

“I am not weak.”

Just like that he forced himself to lie back down on his bed, where the memories of a long forgotten planet where the books came from, began to recede to the recesses of his mind. 

The memories were better left in the back of his mind to be forgotten, just like the origin of the books that sat on the small table.

  
  
  


Time seemed to slowly pass in the darkness. The lights that lined the cell had a soft hum of energy crackling off of them; there was the mechanical padding of feet beyond the thick door, informing him that his robotic guards were ever-present.

Face crusted with trail marks from where his tears had curved along his face, Lance reached up with the edge of his sleeve to wipe at the thin layer of crust on his skin. Looking around the dark features of his room, he pursed his lips, unable to discern if the cell even so much as contained a toilet or a sink to allow him to relieve himself or even get a bitter of water to scrub at the grime that was already layering onto the surface of his skin.

The door to the cell slid open causing a sliver of light to enter into the small cube-like room. A metal tray clattered down beside Lance’s feet, causing the large bowl of almost clear broth to wobble dangerously as liquid sloshed along the edge of the bowl, causing a few droplets to splatter onto the tray.

“Eat.” Lotor's arms were already crossed as he casually leaned against the wall of the cell. 

Lance glared at the food suspiciously. It was one thing to ignore the food trays that the robotic guards had been ceaselessly delivering three times a day, but it was another thing for Lotor to deliver the meal himself. Sniffing surreptitiously at the air, Lance could smell nothing off with the meal—not like it differed from the countless other meals they had attempted to give him; the same old soup, bread and what he supposed was the space equivalent of cheese—but that didn’t mean Lotor somehow didn’t tamper with the meal.

Pulling his legs up to his chest, Lance wrapped his arm around his knees as he pressed his cheek against his right knee in order to stare at the smooth purple-washed metal of the cell wall.

Grunting in annoyance, Lotor lightly kicked at the tray with the tip of his boot, causing the bowl to wobble dangerously for a few fleeting seconds before it came to a rest. Tearing his eyes away from the wall, Lance glanced up at Lotor only to give him the dirtiest of looks he could muster on an empty stomach.

Displeasure colored Lotor’s face as he uncrossed his arms to point at the tray of uneaten food. “Eat or I will personally have a guard shove your meal down your throat. You’re more useful to me alive than dead and I’m sure your esteemed princess wouldn’t be too keen on me delivering your emaciated corpse to her.”

Even with the threat, Lance made no effort to reach for the food. With a sigh, Lotor bent down and snatched the piece of bread from off the tray, tearing off a piece of the bread to stuff in his mouth. He chewed slowly, a show for Lance, before swallowing, he cocked his brow in defiance as if daring Lance to go without food for another day now that he had evidence the food wasn’t poisoned. Lotor held out the bread, a temptation to Lance who hesitantly peeled his hand away from himself and reached out to the bread with some trepidation. Glaring at Lotor, he snatched the bread out of his hand before sinking his teeth into the slightly hard loaf. His stomach gurgled in happiness as he consumed the first thing he had eaten in what felt like several days.

Despite the lightness of the meal—the soup seemed watered down to his taste and the cheese was only a tiny sliver instead of the larger piece that they had placed on the trays previous to this one—Lance scarfed everything down quickly; Lotor seemed to be able to sense the sudden shift in Lance’s mood or the way his brows seemingly pinched together as he had stared at the tray as he nearly inhaled his soup. Lance was surprised the Galra prince was even giving him a reasoning behind the lighter variation of the meal.

“You haven’t eaten in several days. The lighter meal is more palatable for your stomach as you get used to eating again.”

Lance wasn’t sure what part of that sentence he should have found more concerning. The fact that Lotor for some odd, unknowing reason took some active interest in making sure Lance didn’t die from a heart attack just because he consumed more food than his stomach could handle. Or the fact that based on Lotor’s tone, it sounds like he’s personally experienced being in Lance’s shoes before.

Lotor didn’t care to elaborate further but simply stated that he would be back later with Lance’s dinner. As the doors to his cell slid open and shut behind Lotor’s broad back, Lance allowed himself to tip his face up toward the ceiling of the tiny room and wonder for the first time that day what the hell had just happened.

Nothing changed after that day….

….Well, Lance would be exaggerating if he said nothing didn’t.

Lotor still came to his cell with his generals, minus Acxa. They still strapped him down to his bed, regardless of the protests and curses he hurled at them.  Narti still reached out to him, her slim fingers pressing against his forehead as pain coursed through his body. Clawed, ghostly fingers raked through his mind; combing through his memory as he ground his teeth together, forcing himself to think of happier moments and happier times. The process left him raw and hollow on the inside; the back of his throat burning from the surge of acidic bile that had seared the walls of his flesh. He always found his body involuntarily shaking as they undid the straps that pinned him down to the slab of hardened metal before they slinked out of the room; the taste of bitter disappointment was almost palatable as they left. Further away from the information they were trying to pull out of him, but no less close to their goal.

Lance didn’t know what exactly had happened, but something was changing. He started keeping a mental timer in his head; roughly two hours after being tortured the doors would slide apart to reveal Lotor with a tray of food in his hands. He would step into the room, set the tray down in between them on the floor and waited—as a shark would do to prey that had just entered the water, Lance had thought to himself the first time this had happened—a few minutes would pass between them before the growl of Lance’s stomach outweighed the thin veil of rational thought that was clinging to his brain. Snatching the tray up, he would eat the meager bowl of soup, alien-like bread and cheese before he placed the empty tray back down onto the floor and Lotor would stare at him for a few short moments before taking the tray back up and leaving the room.

This pattern reoccurred for at least four more days until the fifth day arrived and Lance noticed a new change.

“What?” Lance winced at the scratchiness of his own voice; the word broke apart in two before it even left his lips due to the lack of use of his own voice that wasn’t being used for screaming or hurling a few curses at his captors. The slightly sore nose he sported that had been healed earlier and the droplets of dried blood on the collar of his undersuit were a manifestation to that; a phantom grin pulled at the edges of his lips as he remembered the dark blush of fury that had burned across Zethrid’s cheeks as he had hurled a curse at her in Galran that he learned from a member of the Blade of Mamora after a complicated game of what Coran had called Nydaric that Lance swore was a combination of Hungry, Hungry Hippos and Bop-it.

But mostly part of him was confused by the slight change in their dynamic. There was some begrudging understanding that the two of them shared, one that Lance didn’t fully understand yet, but he definitely knew that what Lotor was doing wasn’t normal either. There was no reasoning behind Lotor bringing him his meals or staying with him in his cell outside the times he wasn’t being tortured.

Lotor’s lips flattened out into a grim line, “What was that? That.... _ thing _ you experienced.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance lowered the spoon he was holding back down into the bowl of soup. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that. Are we talking about my feelings of abhorrence towards this soup?” Lance lifted up the bowl to make his point, his brows pinching together. “You know for a race of aliens who conquered a ton of planets would it have killed you guys to learn how to properly season food?”

Ignoring the verbal barb that Lance tossed at him, he continued to speak. “That  _ thing _ those humans in your memories were doing, sitting on the floor surrounded by wrapped boxes and you were all…laughing.”

Lance just stared at him, confusion branding itself into his face until his eyebrows rose until they were nearly in his hairline. “Are you talking about  _ Noche Buena _ ?”

Lotor’s lips couldn’t have possibly flattened even more at the unusual amalgamation of words that fell from Lance’s lips. Quickly shaking his head, Lance held up a single hand in protest. “Don’t even bother trying to pronounce it. You wouldn’t get it.”  _ Noche Buena  _ is a holiday that gets celebrated on Earth.”

“Why wouldn’t I ‘get it’ as you’ve put it? I know 20 different languages and over 50 different dialects.”

Lance couldn’t roll his eyes harder than he possibly did. “Did you really kidnap a paladin of Voltron just so you could have a linguistics debate? If you wanted to do that you could have just—” Lance clamped his lips shut when he realized where his train of thought was going. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath. Being held captive on an enemy ship in the middle of space was neither the time nor place for a burgeoning identity crisis. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, he sighed. “Okay, this clearly isn’t about linguistics, is it?”

There was only silence between the two of them for a few moments, which Lance took as an affirmation. There was a glassy reminiscent look that glazed over Lance’s eyes as he straightened his posture and let the memories of countless  _ Noche Buena’s _ roll over him. “It’s a holiday that my family celebrates. Every year a bunch of us go to my  _ abuelita’s  _ house, get together and eat a bunch of food.” The faint smells of  _ platanito fritos, arroz y frijoles negro,  _ and  _ lechon asado _ were making his mouth water. “It’s a big event for us.”

“Why? What is the importance of it? Are you celebrating a war that’s been won? An enemy you’ve just killed? A planet you’ve conquered?”

“What!?” Snapping out of his memory, Lance allowed his eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline. “No! We don’t celebrate it for stuff like that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We just celebrate it in honor of Jesus being born.”

A flicker of shock and horror flashed in Lotor’s eyes as if Lance hadn’t just casually explained that humans sometimes celebrate the birth of another, but had instead swept down in front of him with the red lion, blown up his entire ship while blasting Barbie Girl as his victory song. “Humans....celebrate...the birth...of another human being?”

“Yes…?” Drawing the single word out, Lance raised a single brow. “Do the Galra not celebrate birthdays?” Lotor didn’t answer, instead, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“That woman in your memories...the one that slightly looked like you, who was she?”

Lance could envision his mother as she wrapped him in her arms during the last  _ Noche Buena _ he was with his family; she smelt of freshly toasted cinnamon and vanilla beans. A bright smile that showed off the pearly whites of her teeth, pale skin that reddened if she stayed in the sun for too long. Bright blue eyes that resembled his own and curly reddish-brown hair that was framed in gold when the morning light filtered into the kitchen as his mother sat hunched over the kitchen table. Her mug of steaming coffee just a few inches away from her pinkie as she wrinkled her nose down at the crossword puzzle booklet that she loved to buy whenever she went to the store. “That was my mother.”

“Your...mother?” Lotor stumbled over the word as if his mouth was full of cotton. A foreign word that was equally a foreign concept to the Galra prince.

“Yea, the woman who gave birth to me and cared for me.” Lance snorted. “I get cultures on Earth are weird and everything, but I’m pretty certain you didn’t hatch out of an egg and have a mom too. I mean...unless Galra actually do hatch out of eggs.”

Lance regretted the moment those words left his lips as Lotor stared down at him, a look of torn anguish burning in his eyes.

Eyes narrowing, Lance cocked his head to the side. “You do have a mom.” He paused. “Don’t you?”

Lotor’s gaze snapped upon him so quickly that if Lance could have taken a step back he would have. Spinning on his heels, Lotor left the room, leaving Lance behind with his tray of half-eaten dinner, a little bit more confused than he had been before.

 

 

_ “Lotor.” _

There was darkness surrounding him, an inky, pitch blackness that competed with the darkest depths of space.

_ “Lotor.” _

He waded through it, searching for the voice that sounded so familiar to him, but yet foreign. Darkness surrounded him, so thick that he could see nothing that surrounded him.

_ “Lotor.” _

He turned and that’s when he could see her. A bright light that pierced through the darkness, her arms held out toward him in a loving gesture. Inviting. A motherly sense of nature that  emanated  from the gesture. Her purple hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, a few wisps framed the sides of her face while a lock of it hung in front of her forehead. There was a small smile on her lips as Lotor rushed toward her. Rushed toward the only light within the darkness.

She wrapped him in a hug, wrapped him a sense of warmth that filled his lungs with fresh air as if for the past 10,000 years he’d never known what it was like to breathe properly. He wrapped his arms around her torso as she pressed her right hand to the back of his head and rested her left on top of his temple as she pressed her nose to his hair and breathed in deeply like she was too afraid to let him go. “My baby boy,” she breathed out as Lotor tightened his grip around her.

His heart felt like it was swelling inside of his chest. Allowing his eyes to slip shut, he let himself surrendered to her. Burning the image of her into his mind, even though the few sneaked photos he had seen on a holoscreen as a child were the only images he had seen of her. Her face smiling and bright aside the image of his father. Younger, a little bit more carefree compared to the ancient, draconian side of his father that he’d only ever known of since the moment he could understand his position in life. What everyone around him expected of him, what they wanted from him, but what they hated him for as well.

Taking in a shaky breath, he allowed himself to breathe out the single word that he’d been wishing to say for so long. For long enough that it was nearly washed out of his vocabulary, locked up so deeply in a box and buried behind years of emotional, mental, and physical scars that he wished to leave behind but instead clung to him like iron chains that dragged him down and held him to the ground as they tightened around him.

“Mother.” The word burned with sweet relief in the back of his throat. His shoulders sagged slightly as if a small weight was being removed from them.

Honerva stilled at the word, but idly let her left hand stroke the soft locks of Lotor’s hair.

“Lotor. My precious baby boy.” She repeated the phrase over and over like a mantra she was afraid to forget.

Her grip suddenly tightened in his hair, her fingers pulling at the roots of his locks.  _ “Prince Lotor.” _ His eyes snapped open as he felt clawed fingers pulling at his hair, the hand that had that had been pressed against his mother’s back curled away from Haggar as the witch gripped at him with a tight vice. The warmth that had surrounded him was now stale, cold air that had a sense of wrongness to it. In his chest, that sense of coldness wormed its way into his chest where it gripped his heart so tightly that he stilled as Haggar’s grip on him tightened as she pulled his head closer to her chest.  _ “My precious little prince.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last scene with Lotor is inspired by Cherryandsister's work that you can find [here](http://cherryandsisters.tumblr.com/post/166184709649/wishful-thinking)(please check it out. It's beautiful.)


	5. No Man's Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new chapter! Especially one that was written in 2 days at the sacrifice of nearly every ligament in my hands. Well this chapter got dark and emotional, a far different direction than where I was intending to take this chapter, but sometimes the story writes itself. Personally, this chapter is definitely my favorite since Axca, Ezor, Zethrid, and even Narti get a little more fleshed out than they are in the show. Plus we even get to see how they interact with Lotor and their close relationship with one another. Plus Pidge too! As much as I love Pidge, I feel she never gets enough screen time that isn't focused on her showing off how intelligent she is or using complicated scientific terms with Hunk to hammer home that she's the intelligent one on the team.
> 
> I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I really loved this chapter because everyone gets a glimpse of how I feel this war in space changes the Paladins and more of their individual personalities that aren't defined by overplayed tropes and their limited character actions in the series. So hopefully you guys enjoy it too!

There was a subtle shift in the room that caused Lance to stir from his sleep.

It wasn’t like he slept much these days, but the little sleep he got, he was quite grateful for. So when he felt something was off, Lance rolled onto his side to face the door that led into his cell and let out a pitiful scream, his heart slamming into his throat, as he scrambled backward, fell off of the thick slab that served as a bed, and groaned in pain.

As he rose to his feet, with a welt on the back of his head that was the size of an orange, Lance frowned. “Do you not understand the concept of personal space or what?”

A single brow was raised on Lotor’s face that did little to hide the confused amusement that colored his features.

When he didn’t respond, Lance sighed as he ruffled his own hair. “I can’t tell what time it is, but I’m pretty certain it’s in the unreasonable hours of un- and socially acceptable.” From Lotor’s blank expression, Lance realized that he wasn't understanding the message he was attempting to get across. He sighed yet again. “Is there a reason you’re here? I’m pretty certain it’s not time for you to try and torture any information out of me.” There was more to the question that Lance wasn’t voicing. He wanted to know why Lotor had been showing up so late to his room lately.

There were times he would be stirred out of his sleep to the hiss of his door parting closed and the lingering feeling hovering in the room that he hadn’t been the only person there. Times where he’d rolled onto his side, eyes parting open, expecting there to be another standing at the side of the bed, but instead he clawed at empty air.

Lance groaned, dragging a hand down his face. There was tiredness in his bones that weighed him down; that cut through all the sarcasm and retorts that he was used to having weigh down his tongue. He expected all the other Paladins to be calm, collected, and cool with intelligent and smart things to say. He expected them to say such things but didn’t think that that would fall upon his shoulders. He raked his fingers through his hair and blinked, his mouth twisting down into a frown. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this; I don’t understand what’s driving you to do this, so why are you?”

Honestly, surprise was an understatement for the way Lance’s brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. A snort ripped itself out of Lotor’s body as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, a few curls of his long hair shifting with the small movement to fall over his shoulder. “It’s quite surprising that you’re making no retort or smart quips about this situation.”

“Maybe spend a week in my shoes getting tortured every day for what seems like forever and see if you can keep up the quips and retorts.” The words had barely left Lance’s lips when he felt something shift in the room, a shift that he felt like his words had gotten too close to some open emotional wounds that Lotor clearly kept under lock and key within himself.

There was a glaze; a dim light that burned in Lotor’s eyes.

Pursing his lips, Lance stared at the Galran prince. Realization slammed into him like a bucket of freezing water. A nearly silent, “Oh,” fell from his lips.

“Don’t.” Lotor growled the single word out causing Lance’s brows to pinch together. “I don’t need you to analyze me. I don’t need you to understand me. What I need you to do is give me any information you have regarding the lions. “

The urge to retort that that never was going to happen weighed heavily on Lance’s tongue, but he bit back the retort and instead responded with, “That’s never going to happen. I’m not going to wrap a bow on the lions and hand them over to you nor is Allura.  There are too many people in this universe, in other universes that depend on Voltron. That depend on us to keep fighting Zarkon so that no other planet ends up enslaved...or like Altea.”

Lance gasps as he finds himself being drawn toward Lotor’s face. His knees smacking into the edge of the bed slab, causing him to wince in pain as his face was a hairbreadth away from Lotor’s. “Never mention Altea in my presence again.”

Lance wanted to ask why but realized that was probably a bad idea right now. His eyes scanned over Lotor’s face, taking in the distinct lack of features that would obviously make him a Galra aside from his ginormous height, purple skin, pointed ears, and yellow sclera. Lotor lacked any distinction of fur that typically covered Galra’s and oftentimes blended seamlessly with the hair of their scalps. Instead, Lotor had obvious pupils, Lance noticed that his claws seemed retractive like a cat's. There were a bunch of differences that Lance found in Lotor and even his own generals. He never noticed before how different Lotor was compared to the rest of the Galra in terms of facial appearance. He guesses that he never put much thought into it outside of freaking out whenever Lotor and his generals were trying to murder them.

But it did little to make clearer why Lotor was so testy toward any mention of Altea. Lance couldn’t draw a connection between that and Lotor being half-Galra. Lotor made no effort to say anything else as he released the collar of Lance’s undersuit from his grip.

Without a single word, Lotor turned on his heels and left Lance’s cell. Leaving Lance behind with more questions than answers regarding the prince.

 

“Lotor, there’s an incoming call from Haggar. Should we patch it through?” Acxa looked every bit sympathetic to the look of disgust that flickered across Lotor’s face at the mention of Haggar.

“Do we have any other option besides taking the call?”

“Ooh!” Ezor chirped up from she sat on the dais. “We could always run out of the room, accept the call, and have Haggar freak out as she wonders where everyone is.”

“Or we could just punch the monitor and not have to listen to anything she says.” Zethrid huffed out her reply as she glanced pensively toward Lotor.

Lotor pressed the palm of his hand to his mouth, hiding the soft smile that tugged at the edges of his lips. Taking a moment to collect himself, he let the smile drop from his face, took in a breath, and let a blank, expressionless mask settle itself onto his face. Turning his head toward Acxa, he nodded at her. “Patch her through.”

It took barely a second before Haggar’s face was hovering above the throne Lotor was seated on. Her hood pulled over her face, casting the gaunt angles and planes of her to be cast in shadow, leaving only the glow of her eyes and the background behind her as the few things not cloaked by shadows.

“Prince Lotor.” The witch spat out his name like it was filth upon her tongue, her lips turned downward in disgust as she stared at his visage.

Lotor refused to let it get to him. He never once allowed it to get to him in the little over 10,000 years he’d been alive and he wouldn’t allow it to get to him now. “To what unfortunate displeasure do I owe this call?”

“Prince Lotor, it has come to my attention that you’ve captured the Blue Paladin.”

“Yes, quite a feat that not even Zarkon himself was capable of doing.”

That got Haggar’s lips to flatten out into a single line of displeasure. If Lotor wasn’t being intently stared down right now, he would have brazenly dared to crack another smile.

“Yes,” Haggar hummed, “Zarkon may not have been able to bring a Paladin underneath his thumb, but you’ve failed where your father would have strived.” Lotor’s brows pinched in frustration as his grip on the arm of his throne tightened, the knuckles underneath his gloves going pale. “Your father would have been able to have the Blue Paladin broken by now, spilling every bit of information he has.” Haggar’s eyes narrowed. “And you’ve failed to do that so far, Prince Lotor.”

“I’ve made progress,” Lotor spat out, only causing Haggar’s lips to curl upward in a cruel smile.

“Have you? It’s a shame that is isn’t anything like the progress your father made. I’ll be sending General Zorak to your location tomorrow, to conduct the interrogation of the Blue Paladin. I expect there to be swift progress that is made.” Haggar waited for a few ephemeral moments to see if Lotor would make any attempt to challenge her orders. He knew that despite his status as interim Emperor, the witch would gladly challenge him and his orders. If he so much as called for a public duel, she would readily pick up a knife and stab him in the heart with it. “Your father would be most disappointed in you, Prince Lotor.”

With that, the transmission came to end as the holographic screen disappeared from his site.

Sighing, Lotor let his grim on the arm of his chair loosen. “Axca, find out every bit of information you can about General Zorak and send it to me.”

“Will do, Sir.”

Pressing the knuckles of his hand against his mouth, Lotor’s eyes narrowed as the feeling of discomfort settled in the pit of his stomach as he thought about the general Haggar was sending over tomorrow. Nothing about this new development felt right to him. But most of all he was concerned by this worry that wiggled around in the pit of his stomach.

Was it worry for himself....or was it for the Blue Paladin?

 

It didn’t take long for Acxa to find any information about General Zorak, instead, she found plenty and what she found had Lotor’s stomach twisting into knots. Whereas his preferred methods of interrogation were mostly boiled down to manipulative tactics and Narti’s ability to read minds with the minuscule, but occasional need for violence on Zethrid’s part. General Zorak was the complete opposite of him; as different from him as the ecosystem’s on two different planets.

A chill ran over Lotor’s skin, though he wasn’t certain if it was for him or what the Blue Paladin was going to have to endure. Just one glance at him and Lotor had been able to glean that the Paladin had never had to have endured any sort of interrogation or torture before, while his knowledge of Earth was rightfully limited, he’d drawn conjectures that the Blue Paladin and by extension the rest of the Paladins didn’t need or never had to endure the experiences that Lotor had grown accustomed to.

He breathed out a sigh as he tossed down the data pad in his hand.

The Blue Paladin was going to die.

Rising to his feet, Lotor didn’t spare another glance toward the datapad he had thrown down nor the video that was playing upon the screen.

There was a cat-like Humanoid strapped down to a chair, above its head was a bright purple drill.

In the corner of the video was General Zorak, a hulking figure with a scar marring half of his face. “Tell me everything you know.” The drill descended lower and lower until the tip was pointed toward the figure’s eyes.

“Please don’t. I have a family.” The next word’s the humanoid said were garbled out by intelligible screams as the drill whirred through soft flesh and then the video cut to black.

 

Lance paused mid-chew of his lunch to squint at Lotor. He swallowed, the piece of cheese sliding down his throat as he continued to stare at the prince.

“Either I’m hallucinating or you’re actually standing in front of me right now.”

“There’s a general coming to interrogate you tomorrow.”

A cocky grin stretched across Lance’s face. “Wow, I must be getting popular or something.”

“This isn’t a joking matter. The type of torture you’ll undergo tomorrow is...different. You need to steel yourself mentally.”

Lance snorted as he tore off a chunk of his bread and popped it into his mouth. “I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?”

 

“General Zorak, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lotor stood in the hangar as General Zorak lugged his impressive frame toward Lotor. He was the same height as Zarkon, but his width was comparable to two giant boulders pushed together.

Lotor held out his hand in offering for the general, who stared down at it as if Lotor’s hand or the very limb itself was offending him.

“I don’t shake hands with those who are _blood traitors_ to the very empire itself.”

Biting down on the tip of his tongue, Lotor motioned toward his generals to keep their peace as they stiffened at the usage of such an offensive language. All five of them had had every name, offensive slur, and downright derogatory language thrown at them for being Galra hybrids.

But using the term “blood traitor” was taking it to an entirely different level.

Delight was painted all over General Zorak’s face, knowing that he had gotten a rile out of all of them—except Lotor—by the usage of his words.

“I’ll see to the Blue Paladin myself,” General Zorak continued, “and make sure that he sings for me the secrets you yourself have failed to get.”

The General left the hangar bay, his own personal squad of soldiers trailing behind him.

As he left, Zethrid let out a frustrated growl as she punched her fist into the palm of her other hand and grumbled at Lotor. “You should have let me rip his head off of his soldiers when I had the chance.”

“As much as I would have loved to give you the order, I don’t exactly want the hangar bay covered in blood and dead bodies.” That brought a smile to Zethrid and his other general’s face.

“I don’t know,” Acxa face was lit up by her own smile. “I think this hangar bay would have looked better with the new decorations.”

 

Barely a few minutes had passed before the Blue Paladins screams tore through the halls. Lotor’s eyes were shut close, his limbs relaxed as he sat upon his throne. To any other, they would have supposed Lotor seemed calm and relaxed despite the tortured screams tearing through the halls, but his generals knew better. His generals knew that he was attempting to block out the noise; the sounds of it all. And that underneath the mask he wore, draped in silken lies and false airs that he was as disturbed as them.

A shiver traveled up Zethrid’s back as another scream came again, causing her to grumble about heading down to the training room so she could rip off a robot’s head or two.

Ezor frowned as barely a heartbeat past before cries of “please, stop” and “no more, please” ripped through the hallways and clawed its way into the room. “Is it bad that I feel bad for him?” She tossed out into the air.

No one said anything.

They didn’t need to because they all knew the answer to her question.

No.

 

When Lotor entered Lance’s cell later that evening, he was curled up on his slab of a bed. His entire body shaking, despite the warm conditions of the room. Lotor could smell the metallic tang of blood lingering in the air as the doors behind him slid shut with a _hiss_.

In the blink of an eye, Lance on his feet, the sharp end of a spoon—that had clearly been shaven till the tip was nice and sharp—was pointed at the vein of Lotor’s throat.

Lotor’s nostrils flared, the barest hint of surprise and amusement coloring his eyes. On one hand, he was impressed that somehow the Blue Paladin had stolen an eating cutlery and somehow managed to sharpen it down despite the constant supervision he was under. He was still allowed his lunch and dinner meals, despite General Zorak torturing him for the entirety of the day. He knew that General Zorak despite his love for sadistic torture methods, still allowed his prisoners their three times a day meals. As he put it: “There’s no use for a prisoner passing out on me. What’s the fun in torturing someone who's barely got a piece of bread in their stomach?”

Lotor was delighted by the Paladin’s ingenuity and intrepidness under these conditions. But he certainly didn’t like any sort of weapon, makeshift or not, being pointed at his throat.

Lance’s eyes widened as if the weapon he held in his hand wasn’t for Lotor to meet his demise, but someone else…

“Oh,” the word fell softly from Lotor’s lips and the urge to laugh was overwhelming.

“This wasn’t meant for you,” Lance mumbled as he pulled the weapon away from Lotor’s throat.

“I know,” he replied, “but what makes you think that a sharpened spoon was going to be enough to murder someone like General Zorak?”

Lance’s shoulders fell, his grip on the spoon became tighter. “It was just going to be a bluff.”

Lotor’s eyes raked over the dark circles underneath Lance’s eyes, the way his eyes didn’t burn with life and defiance even when Lotor had him strapped to the bed and Narti right beside his side. No, General Zarkon had done something even Lotor had been unable to do.

He’d broken the Blue Paladin’s spirit.

And Lotor didn’t know why, but that made him angry.

With a gloved hand, Lotor reached out and gripped Lance’s wrist which earned Lotor a flicker of surprise burning in Lance’s eyes.

Lotor kept his gaze steady, his eyes locked with Lance’s own as he lifted his hand and pointed the tip of the sharpened spoon at the hollow of his throat. The spot where if Lance just moved his hand a few centimeters over, Lotor could envision, if Lance had a weapon that could cleave deep enough, he would be able to expose the column of bone.

“If you’re going to attempt to at least have some leverage over the general, make sure you keep your weapon pointed here.” Lotor let go of Lance’s wrist to tap at the spot where the sharpened spoon was pointed. “It’s where the most important vein in the body is. If you cut it, your enemy will bleed out in mere seconds, but only if you cut deep enough and severe the vein enough.”

Lance’s brows rose on his face. He was wondering why Lotor was teaching him this and even parts of Lotor were wondering the same thing as well. But instead, he chose to nod gratefully and pull the weapon away from Lotor’s throat.

Lotor cleared his throat as he held up the small, cylindrical container that he came to Lance’s cell to present as an offering. “This is for you.”

Lance stared at the small container suspiciously. “Why? What is it?”

Unscrewing the top of the container, Lance revealed a creamy substance with a light, fragrant scent that reminded Lance of a mixture of Aloe vera and rose petals. “It’s a medicinal salve that helps...quickly heal all injuries.”

That caused Lance’s eyes to narrow. “Why are you—”

“Just take it.” Lotor growled out, screwing back the top of the container, before shoving it in Lance’s chest.

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled. Dropping the metal spoon onto his bed, Lance used his free hand to roll up the arm of his undersuit, revealing small pinprick-like punctures that started up from Lance’s elbow and undoubtedly were peppered all over his body. They were evenly spaced like someone strapped a pressure cuff to Lance’s arm that had thumbtacks glued to the interior. Some of the wounds were weeping droplets of blood.

Lance unscrewed the cap of the salve, scooped some up with his index and middle finger and heaved a sigh of relief as he spread the medicinal salve onto his wounds. As he rubbed the material into his skin, the wounds rapidly healed before his eyes, leaving behind unblemished skin like Lance had never been tortured. Letting out a low whistle, Lance began to apply the salve to more of his wounds but stopped when he reached the hem of his rolled-up sleeve. His eyes flickered up to Lotor’s face.

“If you mind, I’d like a little privacy.”

Begrudgingly, Lotor nodded as he turned to leave the room. The door hissing open as it slid apart. He could hear Lance taking off the pieces of his armor and as he stepped into the hallway and turned around, he watched as Lance peeled himself out of the upper half of his undersuit, exposing the bare skin of his back that was littered with more of those puncture-like wounds. The door slid shut, blocking Lotor’s vision of Lance, but it did little to erase the clear-cut picture that he could see in his mind.

It continued for three days.

Lance’s screams would claw through the hallways reaching Lotor and his general’s ears. Each one of them more disturbed by the minute. The Galra were used to impressive military tactics, using force and power to get what they needed, but General Zorak was an outlier. An outlier that celebrated in glee for drawing out the torture of his prisoners.

At one point Acxa made a pointed comment to Lotor about taking a blaster to Zorak’s head. Zethrid threatened to tear his limbs off one by one. Ezor threatened to find a Vrigar pit to throw him into and watch the scaly worm-like creatures burrow into his stomach. Narti…

Narti said some things that had Lotor and his general’s raising their brows, stare at Narti in stunned silence, and agree to never speak about the topic again.

But these three days, Lotor kept finding himself drawn to Lance’s cell. A container of the medicinal salve in his hands and each time Lotor entered that cell, he found the Paladin more tired. More broken than he had ever been.

The wounds even were becoming unbearable to look at.

Just this night, when Lotor walked in, Lance could barely even raise both of his arms. So Lotor kneeled beside the bed, gingerly rolling up the sleeve of Lance’s undersuit, revealing purple and green blotchy marks littering his arm.

There was a hiss of pain as Lotor gingerly touched Lance’s arm to lift it up so that he could smear the salve on it.

“It’s broken.” Was Lance’s only reply.

Neither of them said anything as Lotor healed Lance’s broken arm and moved onto the other. It was an...odd experience, almost intimate in nature. Neither of them talking but listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing as they grew lost in their own separate thoughts.

Lotor cleared his throat as he rose to his feet, Lance nervously played with the hem of his undersuit, clearly waiting for Lotor to leave so he could tend to the rest of his wounds that Lotor wasn’t privy to see.

“I’ll have Acxa bring your meal to you.”

The only reply he got was a single nod from Lance.

As Lotor left the room, he was surprised to see Acxa in the hall waiting for him.

“Lotor, this isn’t healthy for you.”

“What isn’t?”

“You visiting the Paladin like this. You’re shifting the blame upon yourself for a situation that isn’t under your control—”

“—and that’s precisely why I’m shifting the blame upon myself.” Lotor cut her off, his brows pinching together as feelings long buried reared their head and attempted to push themselves up to the surface. “Whether it’s healthy or not for me, only I can be the one to decide that.”

Acxa’s voice was soft as she walked over to Lotor’s side. She reached out and touched him gently upon his arm.

Lotor sighed, “Thank you for being concerned, Acxa.”

She gave him a quick smile before her face became as expressionless as his. “I’m just concerned. We already haven’t found a way to get access to the lion we already have on this ship nor the coordinates for the other lions of Voltron and we don’t need Haggar interfering more than necessary.”

“You don’t need to worry about Haggar.”

“Why is that?”

“Haggar doesn’t lead the Galra. I do.”

They both walked toward the main com room. Ezor let out a shout of joy as Zethrid gave him a giant grin.

“So, what’s our next course of action?” Acxa asked.

Lotor tipped his head back, thinking for a few brief moments, before coming to his decision. “I think a call to a certain princess is in order.”

 

The doors to the bridge slid open, allowing Keith to march in. Anger clearly visible on his face like an oncoming storm. “How could you guys allow Lance to be captured!?”

His anger was clearly directed to everyone, but his pinched gaze was focused on Allura whose hands were clasped in front of her chest. Her eyes downcast to her feet. “I’m sorry, I did what I could, but I failed—”

Bringing his fist down on a console closest to him, Keith roared. “You didn’t do enough!”

“Woah, Keith, buddy!” Hunk jumped to his feet from where he had been sitting, quickly moving to place himself between Keith and Allura. “That isn’t cool, Allura’s already beating herself up for this, she doesn’t need you to do it too.”

Keith clenched his teeth together, letting out an annoyed huff, as he spun on his heels and headed out of the bridge.

“We don’t have time to be arguing amongst one another,” Shiro spoke up, “right now we need to figure out a plan of action with the Blade of Mamora so that we can rescue Lance.”

“Hold on, Shiro.” Pidge hopped to her feet. “I’m going to go talk to Keith.”

Running out of the bridge, it wasn’t that hard to locate Keith. Pidge rapped her knuckles against the door of his room.

“Go away!” Came the muffled yell from his bedroom.

“I’m not going away and if you don’t open this door I’ll just play the Bill Nye the Science Guy theme song at full volume until you do!” A smile stretched across Pidge’s face. This was a battle of wills; having an older brother had made sure that she was fine-tuned to the art of annoying others when she truly needed it.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, she heard Keith rising to his feet, and then the door in front of her face hissed open. “What do you want, Pidge?”

“For you to not be a dick to Allura?” Keith gave her a threatening growl, causing Pidge to roll her eyes. “Everyone’s worried about Lance; everyone is worried about what he’s going through right now. When you weren’t here, Allura was practically tearing herself apart. Right now we don’t need another person tearing Allura down or anyone else on the team. We all need to be there for each other. And just because you’re hurting right now Keith, doesn’t mean you can take your anger out on her. We’re all hurting.”

Keith’s mouth parted open, a rebuttal clearly weighing down his tongue.

“Don’t.” Pidge held a single finger up and pointed it at his face. “You need to drop your self-centeredness and go apologize to Allura.”

Keith sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. “When did you become so smart?”

A smug grin stretched across Pidge’s face as she rolled her eyes again. “I was born with it. Now come on, let’s go to the bridge before you decide to run or something.”

They walked back to the bridge. Shiro was busily going over plans with Kolivan on finding the location of Lotor’s ship and rescuing Lance when the bridge went awash with red flashing lights.

“What’s going on?” Hunk’s eyes widened in alarm as Coran’s fingers danced over the control pad.

Coran inhaled a shocked gasp, “Princess, you’re never going to believe this, but...we’re receiving a call from...Lotor.”

Allura’s face went pale as Pidge balled up her hands into fists. “If he hurt Lance, I will personally kick Lotor’s purple-colored as—”

“Pidge!” Shiro gave Pidge a stern glare before turning to face Coran. “Bring up the call.”

Coran tapped a few keys, before Lotor’s face appeared before them all.

“Lotor!” Allura hissed. “What do you want?”

Lotor hummed to himself. “I have an interesting proposition for you, Princess Allura.”

“A proposition!?” Pidge shouted. “If that proposition is to kick your butt then I’ll gladly take you on that offer.”

Lotor seemed amused by Pidge’s outburst.

“Name the terms of your proposition, Lotor.” Allura kept her eyes trained on him, even as the bridge went into an uproar as everyone besides Shiro was wondering what Allura was thinking.

“There are no terms, princess, merely a prize. And that prize is your precious Paladin.”

Allura’s eyebrows shot up so far on her face that they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “You want to give us back Lance...with nothing of value to you?”

“Consider my giving your precious Paladin back to you as equally beneficial to me as it is to you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shiro placed his arms in front of his chest. There was a slight throbbing pain in the back of his head that caused a bead of sweat to dribble down his temple.

“I have my own reasons for it,” Lotor replied, “I’ll have one of my generals send you the coordinates of my ship. It’s best if you attack me in twenty vargas when most of the guards aboard this ship will be using that time to rest. Allowing you the perfect time to swoop in and rescue your Paladin.”

With nothing more to be said, the transmission disappeared from the screen, leaving the members of Team Voltron in stunned silence.

“Are we really going to trust him?” Keith was the first one to voice what every single one of them was thinking.

“Is there any other option that not to?” Hunk spoke up, his mouth was set into a grim line. “I mean...he’s willing to give us Lance for nothing in return.”

“Yea, but what if it’s a trap!” Pidge pointed out. “Are we forgetting that he’s the emperor of the Galra Empire!”

“The acting Emperor, Pidge.” Hunk swiveled around in his seat to face the Green Paladin. “He can’t be as awful as Zarkon. And we all know how awful Zarkon was, the guy looked like he would kick puppies for fun!”

“Lotor may not be as awful as his dad, but can take a giant foot shoved up his as—”

“Pidge.” Shiro cut Pidge off yet again, fixing her with a stern look that came across like an older brother admonishing their younger sibling. “Hunk is right. We don’t have a whole lot of reasons to trust Lotor, but we should take him up on his offer.”

“What!” Keith’s brows pinched together as his eyes widened in incredulity. “What if this is all a trap? A trap so that he can get the rest of the lions?”

“Then it’s a trap we’re going to have to fall into and figure out how to undo ourselves from it.” Shiro winced, grunting as a sharp throb of pain ripped through his scalp.

“Shiro? Are you alright?” Allura was by his side, a gentle hand pressed against the back of his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, once I get some rest.” Shiro attempted to reassure her.

Coran cleared his throat as he suggested that all the Paladins go and get some rest as he set a course for the coordinates of Lotor’s ship. As the Paladins filed out of the room, Coran couldn’t help the sinking feeling weighing down his stomach.

 

Cold sweat traveled down Lance’s skin as his eyes snapped open, his hand instantly darting for the sharpened spoon he now kept hidden underneath his pillow. His fingers just brushed the cool metal when they stilled as he squinted at the figure standing motionless in his cell.

“Lotor?”

He blinked, trying to get the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Lotor was standing near the door to his cell, arms crossed in front of his chest, and looking slightly disheveled—maybe disheveled wasn’t the right word, but how do you describe someone who looks like they rolled around in bed once and still looked pristine enough to be on the cover of a fashion magazine?

“Your team is coming to get you in a little less than 20 vargas.”

Lance’s eyes widened at the news. “Ha—how?”

“Just make sure you’re ready.” Lotor turned to leave, but Lance shouted for him to stop.

Shaking his head, Lance forced himself to sit upright. “I can’t figure you out. I really can’t. You’re supposed to be the Emperor of the Galra. One of the bad guys! And yet you’re here showing me compassion and kindness. I just don’t get why?”

“Must there be a reason for it?”

“Yes!”

Lotor sighed, turning on his feet to face Lance. “Then how naive of you to think so. Sometimes there are people who are motivated beyond greed and their own desires; beyond promises of glory, fame, and reverence. Who simply choose to do the things they do because there is no benefit to them.”

“You say that,” Lance whispered, “but there’s a reason you’re clearly doing this.”

“What was your childhood like?”

The question threw Lance off balance. “What?”

“What. Was. Your. Childhood. Like.” Lotor drew out the pronunciation of each word.

Lance replied with a frown, wrinkles of confusion marring his brow. “It was normal I guess. My parents love me, we celebrate my birthdays, do normal things that other families do.”

There was a bitter chuckle that pulled itself from Lotor’s throat. He whispered something that forced Lance to lean forward on the slab in an effort to hear him. Despite the way his hair framed his face, Lance could see the pain behind Lotor’s eyes as prepared himself to tell whatever story needed to be told. There was a pain in Lotor’s eyes; a pain that no more than a few wild embers, twisting themselves in the air as they burst from smoldering logs that were giving out their last, final breaths.

“You must have been lucky.” Lotor sniffed, “the few glimpses of my father’s face that I got, were usually when he was making a public lesson of how weak I was by tearing me down or better yet training it out of me.” Lance shivered at his words, pushing away the imagery of a younger Lotor cowering in fear as Zarkon loomed menacingly over him.

“I was a child,” Lotor scoffed, the years of pent-up bitterness apparent in his throat. Lance swallowed, knowing that the wound branded into Lotor’s heart must have been as fresh as when it had been first made. “A stupid child,” Lotor continued, “who thought it wise to challenge my father in front of the other Galra generals.”

Lotor took a deep, shuddering breath. Tipping his head back, he briefly shut his eyes and let silence wash over the two of them.

Lance said nothing about the faint, watery shimmer that he saw in Lotor’s eyes.

A second passed. Then two, then twenty; an entire minute passed as Lance listened to Lotor’s deep, shuddering breaths as he attempted to collect himself. Lotor didn’t bother opening his eyes but continued on with his story nonetheless. “A child,” Lotor reiterated. Though Lance was unsure if it was meant for him or a brutal reminder for Lotor at the unjustness that had been cast against him. A bitter laugh bubbled in Lotor’s throat. “I dared, openly to suggest that maybe my father’s ways—the old Galra ways—were outdated. That we needed something fresh and knew. That we needed to let the planets within our empire govern themselves, let them trust us. Instead of filling them with fear or hatred, less one day the very empire that we ruled, would be one that could be turned into a double-edged sword against us.”

Silence consumed them once more before Lance pierced the silence with his own question. “What—what did he do?”

A bitter smile pulled at the corner of Lotor’s lip. “What I expected him to. I spoke out of turn. I dared to question his plan, his very authority and I would have to pay for it.” There was a momentary pause. “And he made sure I did.”

There was a coldness in Lotor’s eyes. Two, glassy orbs of frozen ice. Lance shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I thought he would punish me,” Lotor sneered, “but instead he ordered me to a duel. One between himself and I. A duel to be witnessed in front of every Galra who was eager to attend, to see their own emperor discipline a child, his child. The blood traitor that he had sired who had dared to question him.” Lotor spat out the derogatory term as if it was a sin.

Lotor laughed, a bitter, manic laugh that left him hiccuping for a few short moments before tears were leaking from his eyes and those hiccups of laughter turned into bitter sobs. Lance felt uncomfortable watching Lotor’s carefully built walls breaking, but knew that Lotor felt some sort of trust in him. Some sort of comfort and compassion to allow him to see them break. “Do you know what it felt like?” To watch your own father raise a sword against you? Humiliate you in front of an entire empire? After spending years desperately trying to please my father? Gain a little ounce of praise out of him, a small indication that I had done something in my life to finally make him proud. Only for all of that to be cast away the moment he gazed at me and I could see, there wasn’t a single shred of him in his eyes that held any love for me.”

Lotor chuckled bitterly as he combed his long, thin fingers through his hair. “Do you want to know what he told me?” Lance held his breath as Lotor didn’t give him the opportunity to respond. “He told me that I was weak; merely a prince who sat atop a kingdom made of dust and broken bones. An heir to nothing.” Lotor spat out the words bitterly. “He couldn’t even bear to look at me as he told me I was banished from the empire.” Lotor’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “That he would rather have no heir to his throne that a son who was spineless and weak.”

“You were just a kid,” Lance finally whispered.

Lotor snorted as he turned his head to gaze into Lance’s eyes. “That clearly didn’t stop my father. Did it?”

Reaching up, Lotor brushed the tears that had slipped down his cheeks away with the back of his hand. “Tell me, Paladin, do you believe in fate?”

Lance didn’t respond for quite some time, selecting his words carefully. “No. Not really. I believe people make their own individual choices that can change the outcome of their futures.”

Lotor made a movement, the doors to the cell sliding open. He paused there, his back cloaked by the shadows, his face illuminated by the purple luminescent lights in the hallway.“Do you really want to know why the Paladins are racing to you now? Racing to come and save you?” Lance nodded.

“Because...I’m nothing like my father.”


	6. Conflicted Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with another chapter! Well uh...this one went places where I didn't expect it to go. This chapter sort of took on a life of it's own. That life being, Lance's suffering and conflicted feelings, hence the title of this chapter.

Lance didn’t know what he expected to feel exactly when he dreamt of his glorious escape. He had expected to feel ecstatic, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he raced through the halls toward his Lion; taking shots at any Galra guard that came his way. Instead, he found himself standing in his cell, waiting for the vargas to tick away as he adjusted his armor, tucked his helmet into the crook of his arm as he stared down at his feet and worried about how he’d get his Bayard back. How he didn’t feel the littlest bit of jollity as he waited for his friends to come and rescue him. Instead, Lance found his thoughts preoccupied by Lotor; by everything that the Galra prince had done for him, things that had seemingly seen so out of character for him.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on these thoughts as a blast of energy impacted the ship, causing the interior of his cell to become awash in a dark shade of lavender, emergency sirens blaring in his ears that competed with the sound of thundering footsteps outside of his cell. The door to his cell slid open, revealing someone he never expected to be standing before him.

“I think you’re going to need this to get out of here.” An object sailed through the air, Lance reached out and caught it, his fingers wrapping around the handle of his Bayard, the satisfying weight of the weapon in his hand serving as a conduit that grounded him.

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled toward Acxa, who stood in the middle of the doorway to his cell like a sentry.

She stood there, her gaze boring into Lance as blast after blast caused the floor beneath them to shake and rumble. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a gaze that was saturated with suspicion. “What did you do to him?”

The ship shook again, causing Lance’s mouth to turn downward into a rankled frown. “Should we really be having this conversation right now? When the ship is under attack?”

Faster than Lance could ramble, Acxa was standing in front of him. Her hand gripping his right wrist, her fingers slightly digging into the soft flesh. “What did you do to Lotor?” She hissed just soft enough for him to hear, but a mere whisper amongst the chaotic noise that competed for both of their attentions.

“If I knew, I would love to tell you. But I hardly understand what’s going on myself.”

Acxa shook her head as if she didn’t believe the words coming out of Lance’s mouth. “Lotor would never—he would never risk his life, _risk_ everything just to help the enemy.” Her eyes seemed to narrow even further.

Lance was stunned at Acxa’s words. “What are you saying?”

“How do you think your teammates knew what quadrant to find us in? To come and rescue you?”

Sucking in a breath of disbelief, his mind was racing as he watched as Acxa turned her back to him and walked to the doorway of his cell. “You know Lotor better than I do, so why’d he do it?”

There was a bemused, yet tired smirk on Acxa’s face as she turned her head in Lance’s direction. “If I knew, I would love to tell you.” Lance watched as she disappeared out into the hallway, among the blinking lights and groups of Galra guards racing off to defeat the enemy. Still stunned by Acxa’s sudden usage of snark and the little nuggets of information that she had dropped into his hands, he nearly missed the sharp crackle of the communicator built into his helmet.

Quickly slipping the last piece of armor on over his head, Lance found himself melting in relief at the sound of Shiro’s voice.

“Lance, come in. If you’re safe and sound.”

“I’m fine, Shiro. Could use a decent bath, some decent food, and a luxurious spa day, ooh and maybe—”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the communicator, though Lance could hear the other Paladins beside Shiro groaning at Lance’s rambling.

“Well,” Shiro continued, “get back to your Lion, regroup with us, and we can get you back home, Lance.”

“Alright. I’m making my way there.” Lance confirmed as he rushed out into the hallway, his Bayard glowing as it transformed into its signature form as a rifle. The lights on the ship were still pulsing in that dark lavender glow. Breathing through his nose, Lance raced through the hall, passing by rows of cells. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Lance was worried about getting back to his Lion. He didn’t know the layout of the ship, save for the moments he was being dragged down the hall by a pair of guards to be tortured by General Zorak. And the last time he’d been on any other part of the ship, he’d been unconscious for the duration of it.

He just needed to put his faith into his Lion.

Dropping down onto his right knee, Lance aimed his Bayard at a Galra guard who’s mouth twisted in shocked surprise. He raised his gun, aimed it at Lance, but Lance was quicker as he pressed his index finger against the trigger of his own weapon. The blast from Lance’s gun hit the guard in his shoulder, forcing him to drop his own weapon and stumble backward from getting hit. Quickly rising to his feet, Lance ran toward the guard his Bayard transforming once more until it took on the form of an Altean Broadsword. Seemingly fearful that he was going to be sliced in half, the guard raised his hands in order to protect himself, but Lance spun on his feet, giving him a clear view of the back of the guard’s neck. Raising the sword, Lance turned it in his hand so that the flat part of the blade was parallel to the guard’s body. Swinging the sword forward, an audible smack rang in Lance’s ears as the sword connected with the fleshy part of the guard’s neck. Lance didn’t bother watching the guard’s unconscious form crumble to the floor.

Continuing to race through the halls, he rounded corners and blindly ran through corridors, using only his intuition as a means of guiding himself back to his Lion. Rounding another corner, Lance swiveled on his feet, pressing his back against a wall as a group of guards ran off as another blast of enemy fire caused the ship to quiver beneath his feet.

Letting out a thick sigh as a bead of perspiration trailed itself down the side of his scalp, he pushed himself off of the wall. It only took him a few minutes to find the hangar bay, when he did he let out a sigh of relief when Red came into view. “Oh, Red, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I’ve never been so happy to see you.”

The Lion let out a roar of excitement as the shield around it disappeared. Lance was just a few seconds away from being home free, he took a step forward, and felt all of the air in his lungs being pushed out of him as a massive frame of another being slammed into his side. Lance spluttered out as he found himself rolling across the ship’s floor, his Bayard skidding out of his hand as he lost his grip on it. Drawing in a shuddering breath, a hand flew to his ribs and lightly pressed against the armor, grinding his teeth as a wave of pain rolled through his body. Lance suspected that his ribs at least had to have been bruised, maybe even broken. Turning his head, Lance didn’t have any time to block the kick that was aimed at his head. His helmet flew off of his head from the force of the kick, it sailed through the air and banged somewhere against the floor behind him. He could feel the warmth of his own blood trickling down his lips and jaw from his broken nose that was throbbing with pain.

“ _You_!”

Glancing up at the person who attacked him, Lance scowled at General Zorak’s face looking down at him. There was a malicious grin stretching across his face that made the scar marring it all the more hideous. “I don’t think we’re through having our fun together before you decide to crawl away to the other Paladins. _We haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet_.”

There was a pitiful, gurgling cough that wrenched itself from Lance’s throat as his eyes widened. A meaty hand that was larger than two of Lance’s heads put together was wrapped around his throat. Lance spluttered, his gloved hands curling as they pitifully attempted to claw at Zorak’s hand that was crushing his throat. It only gave Zorak a reason to laugh as he drew Lance up off of the floor so that his feet were dangling in the air. Zorak took a few hulking strides, towards a wall. Lance could feel his teeth rattling in his skull; stars and dark spots dancing at the recesses of his vision as Zorak slammed him against the wall. His back and the back of his skull colliding against the metal with a sickening sound.

“I wonder,” General Zorak crooned, “how that _blood traitor_ , Lotor would feel when he finds your corpse. Bloody and broken; organs pulled out in a wondrous display.” His grip on Lance’s throat tightened, he could feel the blood rushing to his lips and cheeks, turning them bright shades of scarlet even as his skin paled from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. “It’s so apparent, really. That, that _thing_ would visit your cell every night after our little sessions. Tell me—” the general let out a gruff laugh at the realization that Lance couldn’t speak due to the lack of oxygen in his veins, he released his hold slightly. Lance gulped down huge gasps of air into his lungs, perspiration dripping down his skin. “—just what does that little blood traitor finds so interesting in a pathetic, substandard creature like you.” Eyes narrowing, Zorak cocked his head to the side as he studied Lance. He squeezed Lance’s neck a little tighter, not enough to choke off his air, but enough to remind Lance that his hand is keeping him on the precipice of life or death.

“Unless,” There was a smirk on the general’s face that caused a shiver of dread that clawed up Lance’s back. “There’s something _interesting_ about you that keeps drawing that little prince back to your cell _every single night_.” Lance shook, his own hold on the general’s hand tightening at his implication that Lotor’s visits to his cell were sexual in nature. In some part of his mind, he was more so angry at the implication on Lotor’s behalf. His mind rooted around in his memories, in the shared memories that he and Lotor kept of the gentle touch on his broken arm as Lotor softly rubbed the medicinal salve into his skin to heal the broken bones beneath the flesh. Of Lotor standing in the near darkness of his cell, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he relayed parts of his life story to him.

If anything it did nothing but to piss Lance off. But the glimmer of anger burning hotly in Lance’s eyes only made Zorak laugh.

“What? A few sweet words whispered in the dark and suddenly you feel...protective over that little blood traitor?” He snorted darkly. “If he wasn’t the emperor’s son, I’d seek to cut out Lotor’s heart myself so that his _filthy_ Altean blood wasn’t such a blemish upon our glorious empire.”

Lance’s eyes widened in shock as the dots connected in his head. The fact that Lotor’s generals were all clearly hybrid’s, the fact that Lotor was so testy when it came to any mention of Altea. The stark difference between Lotor’s features and the other Galra. Dread and realization settled itself in the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone as Lance became privy to a secret that peeled back more of the complicated layers that made Prince Lotor who he was. It left Lance breathless—though Zorak’s fingers squeezing around his neck were doing a pretty good job of that too—to know something so insanely personal about the prince, something that set him apart from the rest of the Galra, and seemingly a reason why Lotor was so adamant in his past about proving his worth to Zarkon.

All of this information did nothing more than to invigorate the boiling anger in his veins at Zorak’s words and taunts. Peeling one of his hands away from Zorak’s own that was wrapped around his neck, Lance shook his arm, allowing for the carefully concealed spoon with the sharpened tip that he had kept hidden in his cell to slither down the bare skin of his arm. He had tucked it underneath his undersuit, careful to not cut himself with the sharpened end. There was no way he was going to leave it behind; he had a perfectly good secondary weapon and he didn’t know when it would come in hand...until now of course.

Gripping the handle of the spoon tightly, Lance lashed out, the tip pointed toward the fleshy area of Zorak’s neck, just like Lotor had shown him. Zorak merely smiled, gripping Lance’s hand with his free own. Lance let out a strangled scream as Zorak squeezed, he could feel his hand throbbing from pain as the spoon slipped from his grip. “I should leave your dead body as a gift to that little prince,” Zorak growled as his grip around Lance’s neck tightened. “And in fact, I think I’m going to.” Spluttering as his legs flailed wildly, his skin was starting to prickle as the edges of his mind fazed into a fuzzy string of nonsensical thoughts.

He was pretty certain he was going to die on this ship. Choked to death by a tyrannical, bloodthirsty general that wanted to fulfill a petty desire that harmed Lotor in some way. His lips parted, a gurgle of unintelligible sound tumbling from his lips as his lungs burned inside of his ribcage, desperate to pull in even a small bubble of oxygen.

Eyes watering, Lance could feel the tug of unconsciousness pulling at the edges of his mind. The corners of his vision going black as a single series of thoughts flashed behind his eyes. He wouldn’t get to go home, he would never get to eat his _abuelita’s_ cooking, never experience the warm sand beneath his feet again. He would never be able to tuck his nose into the crook of his mother’s neck and inhale her scent as she pulled him into a warm hug. Or watch his father on a sunny afternoon, slowly rocking in his chair on the front porch. A knife in one hand a bar of soap in the other as he set about carving the soap to bring out a natural beauty in it that he would give to Lance’s mother once he was done. Then they would playfully argue about the soap carving; his mother desiring to display it, but his father insisting that she just put the soap in the bathroom so that it could be used because that was soap’s natural purpose.

Lance hated this; hated this situation, hated everything about it. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t fight back. He was weak and he hated himself for it.

He was beginning to fade into unconsciousness when the general slightly turned his head at the sound of sharp footsteps coming his way. There was a flash of a broadsword swinging through the air, neatly cutting through Zorak’s neck. There was a spray of oxford blue colored blood that arced through the air, splashing across Lance’s face and coating his features in the dark blood. Zorak’s grip on Lance’s neck loosened, causing Lance to fall to the floor; his butt smacked against the hard surface of the ship's floor as the blood continued to spray everywhere. Lance watched the decapitated head sail through the air before crashing down on the ship’s floor where it continued to roll until it came to a stop. The mountainous body above Lance, swayed as it continued to spray blood everywhere, until it tipped to the side and came crashing down onto the floor with a resonating thud, revealing behind it the attacker who had severed Zorak’s head from his body.

Lotor sneered in disgust at the copious amounts of blood covering the ship’s wall and floor. He scowled, glancing down at the tip of his boot at the smear of blood that marred it.

Lance’s eyes were wide as he stared at Lotor, who calmly wiped his blood-stained sword off on Zorak’s body. “Why did you do that?”

Lotor shrugged as if him murdering another Galra before Lance’s eyes was no different than him eating or breathing. “He was irritating me.” Lotor’s eyes flickered toward the Red Lion. “You should go.”

Eyebrows pinching together, Lance frowned at Lotor...he was just...letting him go? Like that? Like he just didn’t chop off Zorak’s head in front of Lance? But he rose to his feet anyway, as a handful of Galra soldiers came running into the hangar bay; their guns trained on Lance, even as their eyes flickered to Zorak’s decapitated body and then to Lotor’s sword, still smeared with Zorak’s blood. To Lance’s utter surprise, they swiveled their guns so that it was trained on Lotor instead.

Lotor sighed, sounding weary of the entire situation. “To think we were all getting along so nicely.”

A single cry rose from one of the guard’s as he was lifted into the air by Zethrid. A low growl rumbled through her throat as she squeezed the guard’s head, his metal helmet crunching beneath her fingers as she dug in. Blue blood oozed between her fingers as she pulled her arms apart, tearing the Galra soldiers clean in half, exposing his spinal column as it loosely hung in midair. Lance felt his throat close up as bile rushed up into the space. Turning his head to the side, he avoided looking at the body but could hear the _squelch_ of organs falling to the floor and of Zethrid tossing the body to the side.

She let out a savage yelp of glee as she tore through the rest of the soldiers, crushing their weapons as she tore through their bodies like they were nothing more than paper mache.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Lance turned his head back to face the scene. Blood, viscera, and more bodily parts that Lance didn’t even want to identify littered the floor; Zethrid stood grinning in the middle of the carnage dripping from head to toe in blood. “See,” Acxa came into the hangar bay, Narti and Ezor trailing behind her. She carefully eyed all of the carnage. “I told you that hangar bay looks a lot better with the new decorations.”

Lotor gave her a roll of his eyes. An interaction that piqued Lance’s interest even as Lotor gazed in his direction once more. “What are you waiting for? I’m pretty certain your fellow Paladins are waiting right outside for you.”

Giving him a curt nod, Lance turned toward Red, scooped up his helmet and reattached it onto his body as he raced to the Lion. He didn’t bother glancing back at Lotor, uncertain if someone or _something_ would keep him from getting onto his Lion and making a clean break off of the ship. Clambering into the cockpit seat, the Lion let out a deafening roar as all of her systems came online. The doors to the hangar bay slid open, creating a suctioning vacuum towards the dark glow of space. Lance’s eyes flickered to a panel near the doors where Narti stood, her hand pressed against the glowing panel. She stared up at Lance as he silently stared down at her with stunned surprise. He nodded in her direction as the Lion crouched and took a leaping run toward the open hangar doors.

As he made it out into space, the hangar doors sliding shut behind him, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice crackled in Lance’s ears. “Is everything alright?”

The blood was beginning to dry on his face—his own and Zorak’s. “Yea, I just had a bit of trouble, but I’m fine.”

“Prepare to go back to the castle, team. We’re taking Lance home.”

 

Pidge let out a whoop of joy as Lance waltzed into the bridge. She ran towards him and was about to hug him, but skidded to a halt a few feet away from him as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh, why do you smell like you were rolling around inside of a Weblum’s stomach?”

Lance rolled his eyes as he reached up and pulled off of his helmet. Pidge pressed a single hand to her mouth as her cheeks puffed up and her skin took on a green hue.

“Dude!” Hunk rushed toward Lance, scooping him up in his arms and giving him a giant bear hug that smeared some of the dry blood against his own armor. Hunk frowned as he pushed Lance an arm’s length away from him, his hands remaining on Lance’s shoulders as he gave Lance a good look over. “Is this blood!?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Lance responded as he nervously scratched the back of his head.

“Well, it’s good to have you back with us, Lance.” Shiro came over, patted Lance on the shoulder, but removed his hand and grimace at the smear of dried blood coating his hand. He grinned at Lance as he wiped his hand on the side of his undersuit.

“Yes, it’s good to have you back.” Allura agreed as she came to stand at Shiro’s side. Her eyes were weary, dark circles clearly apparent beneath her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a good while. “I’m sorry, Lance. For not being able to—”

Lance shook his head, cutting her off. “Don’t beat yourself up. All that matters is that I’m back here and safe.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Allura nodded as her face slipped into a weary smile. Reaching out, she placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s really good to have you back, Lance.”

“Yea.” Pidge smirked as she cupped her chin; her thumb resting against her cheek as she pointed her index finger out and curled the rest of her fingers in toward her palm. “It’s really great to have you back. Which by the way, while you were gone, I deleted your save for your video game—”

“What!” Lance’s eyes went wide as he contemplated throwing Pidge into the pool or bugging her for the rest of her life.

“—only so I could get you past that really difficult level that you hate.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Lance reached out and ruffled Pidge’s hair. “You’re the best little nerd anyone could ask for.”

Coran also welcome backed Lance. Coran was overjoyed with himself that Lance was back, indicative from the tears that were spilling onto him as Coran pulled him into a hug. Lance patted Coran on the back as Allura came over to the Altean’s side and gently pried him from away from Lance.

Lance sighed as his eyes settled on Keith, who stared him down as his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Lance bemoaned as he spread his arms out, his fingers fluttering to his palms in a _come here_ motion, “come on. One free hug. Good for only the next 3 seconds.”

Keith shook his head as he uncrossed his arms and made the few strides before he was standing in front of Lance. Reaching out, he squeezed Lance’s shoulder, a small weary, smirk on his lips. “It’s good to have you back, buddy.”

Pidge shouted out that Lance should take a shower as Hunk rubbed his hands together and rumbled off about making a bunch of food since the food that Lance was eating while imprisoned probably didn’t taste good. The two of their eyes started to twinkle as they turned to one another and shouted, “Party!”

They both glanced at Shiro who reluctantly relented.

After an hour long, hot shower where Lance had the ability to relax underneath the warm water, scrub all the dirt and grime off of his body and out of his hair. He went to the bridge where Pidge was challenging Hunk to see how many marshmallows—they weren’t really like marshmallows, they had the consistency and taste of them, but were a bright shade of red—they could fit into their mouths. Lance found himself laughing for the first time in what seemed like years at their antics. The hours began to blend into one another as everyone focused on making Lance happy and laugh as they regaled story after story that happened during Lance’s absence or kept him preoccupied with offering to play games from Coran’s youth. It wasn’t until Allura let out a yawn and Pidge could barely keep her eyes open that Shiro suggested that the party come to an end so that everyone could head to bed.

Lance bid everyone goodnight as he left and returned to his room. He sighed as he stepped into the space that he had called home for nearly a year at this point. Whistling lowly to himself as he collapsed on his bed. He wondered how his family back on Earth was doing. Threading fingers through his hair, he blinked in the darkness. He could barely go a few weeks without texting his sister or even talking to his mom or dad, so an entire year without communicating with them, especially after all he’d been through.

Lance didn’t exactly realize he’d fallen asleep. Until he felt the heavy weight of sleep settle onto his limbs, causing him to sink further into the bed. His dreams were fairly normal; he dreamt of the sand beneath his feet or Kattlenecker in a long, white wig. He groaned in his sleep as beads of perspiration covered his skin as he dreamt of being strapped down again, of Zorak hovering over him with a sadistic grin on his features, of his screams as Zorak lifted up something that looked like a pressure cuff with nails embedded inside of it.

“This is going to hurt you, but I’ll enjoy it.” Zorak laughed as the pressure cuff got closer and closer to Lance’s arm.

Lance screamed as he bolted upright in his bed. His hand flying to his throat as it tingled as if he had been strangled in his sleep by a ghost. He was shaking as his shirt clung to his skin, soaked through with sweat as he pulled his knees into his chest. Raking a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, Lance sighed, collapsing back into his bed. Staring up at his ceiling, Lance pressed a arm over his eyes as he wished that everything could go back to normal, but when the morning came—he knew this by Pidge knocking on his door and shouting to him that Hunk was making space bacon for breakfast—he realized that he couldn’t go back to that blissful existence he lead before being captured.

Life had changed.

He’d changed.

And nothing from here on out would be normal anymore.

 

Lance was grateful for the next few days. The team hadn’t gotten into a single bit of trouble; there were no fights for their lives, fights to save an entire planet or its people. There were no Galra to fight either. The only missions they seemed to get lately were helping old alien grandmother’s with their groceries or delivering them to other planets. It was pretty peaceful—Lance suspected though, that the rest of the team was avoiding taking on actual missions for his sake. The entire team discovered that Pidge’s brother, Matt, was alive when she contacted them as she traveled back to Olkarion. They all immediately welcome Matt into their fold, though Lance was a little bit annoyed with Matt flirting with Allura. Not necessarily in a jealous manner, he’d moved on from that when he got the hints that Allura didn’t view him as anything but a friend. But if Matt did anything that made Allura uncomfortable, he was willing to push him out of an airlock.

After that, Lance spent most of his time playing his video game—he was really grateful for Pidge getting him past the water level that he hated—or on one occasion, showing Coran and Allura how to milk Kattelnecker. Lance nearly laughed as they backed out of the room; skins as pale as silkworms. Meanwhile, Hunk, Pidge, and Matt had taken the time to come up with a program that could track Galra fleet movements as well as hack into their communication feed.

Everyone was huddled up around the computer they were working on when it got pointed out that a bunch of Galra ships were converging on a pocket of space where there was no planet or anything of importance. Hunk suggested that they try tapping into the feed. Pidge tapped a few keys, pulling up a feed from one of the ships. “On Emperor Zarkon’s orders, all ships are to converge—”

“Whoa, whoa! Zarkon’s alive!?” Lance shook his head, there was a heavy sinking feeling in his gut that this mission wouldn’t be a good one.

“It doesn’t matter that he’s alive.” Shiro sighed. “We need to go to that coordinate and protect whomever or whatever Zarkon seems so desperate to have destroyed.”

Pidge brought up that this was a good time to test out the cloaking feature she had been tinkering around with on her Lion.

Shiro ordered everyone to their Lions. It didn’t take everyone long to put on their armor or get in their respective Lions and they were off into space. Lance was dead silent throughout the entirety of the journey until they arrived within some distance of the location. They formed Voltron and then had Pidge engage the cloaking device. They stayed some yards away from the ship that currently was being converged upon by a hoard of Galra ships. Two oddly shaped ships flew out of the hangar of the larger ship they were on before it burst into a large explosion and a column of flames.

“Is it just me or are those ships moving ridiculously fast!?” Pidge shouted as the ships flew past Voltron.

Lance focused on the ships and gasped as they moved past his eyesight; he only got a glimpse of the occupants of the ship, but it was enough for him to make out one of the pilots—

“Was that Lotor!?” Hunk’s voice was loud in Lance’s ears. It competed against the warning sounds blaring through his Lion.

“Pidge,” there was a thread of worry in Shiro’s usually calm voice, “what is that?”

“I don’t know.” Sounding frantic, even though his communicator, Lance could hear Pidge frantically working as the cloaking covering Voltron disappeared. “Lotor’s ships did something to the ship’s cloaking capability.”

“Well, whatever it did. We’re currently an open target for our enemies.” Allura warned, causing everyone to focus on the Galra ships that were coming their way.

The battle was exhausting, but they managed to create an opening that allowed them to escape and retreat back to the castle ship. As they flew back, Pidge tapped into the Galra feed again and in a voice that sounded utterly shocked and battle-worn whispered, “Guys, you have to listen to this.”

Pidge brought up the feed and played it through all of their Lions. Zarkon’s voice brought a chill to Lance’s spine as he sucked in a sharp breath as that intimate moment he had shared in the darkness with Lotor, in his cell, rang in his mind. _He told me that I was weak; merely a prince who sat atop a kingdom made of dust and broken bones. An heir to nothing_.

“Attention citizens of the Galra Empire.” Zarkon’s voice rang through Lance’s speakers; it was startlingly clear as if Zarkon was in his Lion himself. His grip on his controls tightened, till his knuckles were bone white. “From this day forward, my son, Lotor is to be regarded as a fugitive _criminal_ of the empire. All citizens are authorized to use deadly force to stop him or any of his soldiers. I repeat, Prince Lotor is an enemy of the state. Engage with extreme prejudice. Kill on site.”

They made it back to the ship. Lance made his way to the bridge where everyone was talking about Zarkon’s speech and Lotor. But Lance tuned them all out, lost to his own thoughts. At some point, they contacted the Blade of Mamora, since Keith and Kolivan were on the screen as Shiro relayed the information they just learned to the two of them.

Trying to steer his thoughts away from Lotor, Lance miserably failed at doing so. His stomach was twisting inside of him. Zarkon’s speech sent a chill through him. It was bad enough that Lotor had had to been through this situation as a mere child, but now—

“Lance.”

Lance looked up to see that everyone’s eyes were trained on him. He swallowed. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t look too hot.”

Lance shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I just—” he didn’t even bother to get the rest of the sentence out, before he was spinning on his heels and speed walked out of the room.

As the doors slid shut behind him, Lance could hear Hunk sigh. “Just what did Lotor do to him?”

Making it back to his room, Lance collapsed on his bed. His mind was running at a thousand miles per minute as he shut his eyes and was taken back to that single moment in time where Lotor’s fingers had gently brushed against his broken arm. His touch warm, yet gentle while Lance sat there broken, defeated, and tired. The rush of thoughts after that one were like a symphony, each instrument competing for a solo—a chance to be heard amongst all the others. He thought of Lotor’s unshed tears, of a Lotor that was as equally dangerous as he could be convincing when the moment called for it. Of a Lotor who possessed a cold sense of cruelty; one who would swing a sword at someone that was supposed to be called an ally due to a petty urge. But he also knew deep within him, that Lotor kept a part of himself buried. A part of himself that seemed to take pride in a heritage that others were so ready to beat down, to keep as a taunting reminder that Lotor would never rise to the likes of Zarkon or other Galra.

And yet….

Lance knew somehow that Lotor took what others saw as a weakness to be a source of strength.

Breathing softly through his nose, Lance rolled onto his side as his brain pulled up image after image of the moments he spent with Lotor, whether he was the one torturing him or not. He couldn’t help when his brain decided to torture him with imagery of Lotor’s lips twisting into an impassive smile. His own stomach was twisting inside of him as Lance pleaded with the universe for the sensation to fade away.

There was a warmth in his stomach that was broiling inside of him. A warmth that caused his skin to tingle. A tingle that made Lance want to cry, scream, curse, plead with whatever deity was listening in this part of the universe.

Instead, there was only silence.

And to Lance, that seemed so much worse as he curled up into a tiny little ball. His mind intent on ignoring the rush of complicated feelings whirling through him as he settled instead on wondering why and when his life had become so complicated.


	7. The Sins of the Father; the Sins of the Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new chapter that's considerably longer than before (a whopping 19 pages long). I was super tempted to call this chapter: "Lance reads everyone for their canon BS" but thought against it. Since...a lot of canon characteristics and quotes in VLD are actually kind of "wtf" and terrifying when you sit down and think about it from the perspective of other characters. Also this chapter got super dark again, so I'm sorry for any emotional suffering I cause with this chapter. Also I guess I'm going to start putting trigger warnings at the tops of chapters, in case, y'know, you don't want to read about that specific thing or have it come as a surprise to you.
> 
> Also I'm sorry for like the next...6 chapters coming up (whenever I upload them because summer vacation is nearly over and that means my final year of college) because they focus on each member of Voltron, including Coran, and the emotional, mental, and physical tolls they've been dealt with because of the Galra Empire and how that affects them as individuals + their personalities as a whole.
> 
>  
> 
> **Trigger warnings: implied/referenced mentions of torture, PTSD**
> 
> Also if you want to follow me on social media, feel free to follow my tumblr blog: [starstruckroyal.tumblr.com](http://starstruckroyal.tumblr.com/); I rarely ever post, but when I do, it's memes, my salt about Voltron, or my love for Lotor and Lance.

Lance stepped out of his Lion on shaky legs and walked through the halls of the castle ship until he was on the bridge. The other Paladins filtered into the room, seemingly as worn as he was after their ordeal on Naxzela and the ensuing aftermath of everything else.

Coran pulled himself away from the castle controls as Allura came into view, raced toward her and hugged as he whispered to her about how he’d thought he’d never see her again, how foolish she and the Paladins had been, especially Keith—who’d just walked into the bridge as well—who’d been so ready a few moments ago to sacrifice his own life to save everyone else. Coran pulled himself away from Allura to jab a single finger in Keith’s directions. The usual smile that was plastered across his face was long gone, instead replaced by a thin, tired line that made him look like more of a father than Shiro did at times. “What were you thinking?”

Keith looked rather annoyed at Coran, his lips flattening into a thin line as his brows pinched together. “I was making what I thought was the right decision.”

Coran sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “So the right decision, was for you to sacrifice your own life just to save everyone?”

“It was the best decision we had at the time!” Keith’s voice raised a little in volume. He pointed a single finger at the wide expanse of space that existed outside. “Who knows what would have happened if Lotor didn’t show up. We’d all be dead. So yea, my best decision at the time was me sacrificing myself to save everyone else. That’s what a leader would have done.”

Coran bristled at Keith’s words. “That’s not what a leader would have done!” Everyone’s eyes widened at Coran’s explosive words, though it mostly seemed to be Allura who looked the most disquieted at her advisor’s sudden outburst. “That’s not something Shiro would have done or even Alfor himself. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good isn’t a mark of a leader; surviving and fighting with all that you have is.” Coran’s voice trailed softly at the end, making Keith’s stubborn headed stare soften as the weight of Coran’s words settled upon his shoulders.

“Coran. I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Coran shook his head. “It’s fine.” He paused, taking the few strides it took to reach Keith before he was standing in front of him. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Just don’t make us worry like that again.”

“So,” Pidge spoke up, “since we’ve got Keith’s issues out of the way. What do we do about Lotor?”

 

Everyone was waiting in the hangar. Lance could see the tense lines in Allura’s back and the firm stance Shiro was taking as Lotor slowly exited his ship. He made his way over to the Paladins and barely let out an utter of surprise or even a sharp raise of his brow as the Bayard in both Allura and Pidges hands transformed into whips that they used to restrain Lotor’s arms to his side.

“Really, princess?” Lotor sighed. “I come in peace.”

Allura’s brows were pinched together as she tugged on her Bayard, causing the restraints around Lotor to tighten a little bit. “Forgive me, but you haven’t exactly given me much reason before this to believe your lies.”

Eyes slipping shut for a few brief moments, Lotor pointedly stared at Allura. “Lies? Princess, must I remind you, if I hadn’t been here you and your allies would be nothing more than particles floating in space. Yet, you stand here, alive and well thanks to my intervention.”

“Your intervention?” Pidge growled out, her eyes a shade darker from her anger. “Your intervention is the sole reason why Lance got kidnapped from us, taken hostage, and had horrible things done to. ”

Lance stilled as Lotor’s gaze settled upon him. When he opened his mouth, it felt as if he was speaking solely to Lance and only to him. “I will...admit my kidnapping of the Blue Paladin seems to have…caused you all some strife. But don’t let a past action that you only have a limited understanding of, cloud this moment.”

“And why shouldn’t we!?” Allura shouted. “After all you’re Zarkon’s son!”

It was only a small fraction of the moment, but Lance frowned as a flash of pain burned in Lotor’s eyes, the corner of his lip quirking downward. It didn’t last long before his practiced mask was slipped back onto his face. Lance couldn’t have felt worse than he did in this singular moment. His grip on his Bayard slackened slightly as he lifted a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat quite loudly which caused everyone’s attention to focus on him.

A single brow on Lotor’s face slightly rose by half an inch in intrigue.

“Shouldn’t we….y’know,” Lance rolled his wrist in a vague gesture, “listen to him?”

“Listen to him?” Lance turned his head to see that it was Keith who spoke up. “Listen to him? Lance are you absolutely insane!?”

“Wait.” Shiro held out a single hand, motioning for the all of the Paladins to quiet down. “Lance has a point. Lotor didn’t have to come and save us, but he did—”

Allura looked absolutely shocked at Shiro’s words. “Shiro—”

Shiro cut her off with a single, sharp glare. Causing her to pout slightly. “—And for that reason, I think we should at least toss him in the brig, see what he has to say, and decide where to go from there.”

Everyone—including Coran and Matt—looked shocked. Lance let out a small sigh of relief as a plethora of voices rose up in displeasure at Shiro’s decision. “Enough!” Shiro shouted, causing the sea of displeasure to quell and fade. “I’ve made my decision and that’s final.”

Shiro ordered that Lotor get moved to the brig. As Allura and Pidge led him out of the hangar and to the brig. Lance turned to leave the room but found Hunk standing in front of him.

“Lance, are you...okay?” Hunk frowned as he studied his friend.

“What?” Letting out an egregious laugh as if Hunk had said the funniest thing in the universe. “I’ve never been better. Why are you asking?”

Hunk shrugged his shoulders. “You were making weird faces at Lotor. I thought something was wrong.”

Forcing a smile onto his face, Lance felt a little guilty, lying to his friend. “I could never be better.”

 

Days passed by and Lotor proved to be a great source of information for the Coalition. He fed them sensitive information about the Galra Empire that neither Voltron, the Blade of Mamora, nor the Coalition knew about. Fleet movements, transportation routes, when certain high profile meetings would be taking place. Each intel Lotor gave them always turned out to be true as well.

But it didn’t mean that this existence wasn’t insipid for him. Lotor sighed through his nose, his nostrils flaring at the movement as he spent yet another day counting the seconds away in his cell. When he was first thrown in here, he spent a few minutes combing through the rather adequate cell. There were no weapons meant to kill him in his sleep—not that he got much of it anyway; he’d had the awful lesson of once learning that it was best to only get a few vargas of sleep, especially when he was in the presence of those who were wary of him...or wanted to kill him. There were no hidden recording devices either. The cell was bare, save for a single bed on a round platform; although there was a small panel that transformed into a toilet when he needed it.

Lotor sighed. This situation wasn’t the ideal outcome he was hoping for, but it was better than what he had expected. He had proposed that the Paladins would have killed him onsite or worse thrown him into Zarkon’s open arms. For a moment, he thought that singular outcome would have become a reality for him when the Paladins squabbled among one another about his fate, only for the Blue Paladin to speak up on his behalf.

The Blue Paladin.

Shutting his eyes, Lotor could vividly see the Blue Paladin’s face in his mind. Sharp features, blue eyes that yet like a gentle, blue sea also had the ability to become a raging storm. A subtle shift, nonetheless, Lotor could picture those blues eyes transforming from a gentle, friendly fire to a blazing hearth full of a smothering, fury that would consume all those who stood before it. He couldn’t a finger on it, but Lotor would never admit that he found the Blue Paladin...intriguing. But he didn’t have time to spend thinking about him, not locked up in this cell where his only interaction came from relaying his limited scope of information to the Black Paladin and the princess; the others treated him with a sense of distrust. He sensed it even confined to this cell, curiously the Blue Paladin had always been absent from these meetings they held where they grilled him relentlessly for all the paltry information he could cough up. And when that limited scope of information ended, he would no longer hold any use to them.

But for now, Lotor supposed this situation couldn’t be too bad—he’d been through much worse—he got three square meals a day, delivered to him by the princess’ advisor. Although he isn’t allowed out of his cell, the Paladins haven’t threatened to torture him or throw him into space...yet.

He supposed that the treatment was fair. It was what he deserved after all, especially after all he’d done. Sighing, rather audibly; the noise bouncing off of the walls, Lotor couldn’t help but reflect on his downfall that brought him here in the first place.

It still pained him, even if he would never admit it. Narti’s face was like a sore wound in his heart. It still pained him to think about the moment when his base had come under attack; a location that no one should have known about as it housed the Sincline ships. A location that only he and his generals’ were privy to know about. But when they got attacked, he knew something was wrong...something had to be wrong and it wasn’t until he turned and saw Narti that he had put two and two together.

His closest general; one who could neither see nor speak, a perfect mole for Haggar’s own manipulation since no one would have paid attention to Narti. After all, she seemed harmless. A Galra hybrid who seemed defenseless and used a cat as her eyes and whose only means of communication were whatever she telepathically relayed or the small body movements that she gave that Lotor, Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid had become accustomed to after spending years in close proximity with one another.

It pained him, even more, to realize that he couldn’t place when his closest general—his closest friend—had become a mere pawn to Haggar. Had it been the moment he was banished from the empire? Or long before that? Then and there, his only option had been to eliminate Narti. As much as his body had quivered as he ran toward her, unsheathing his blade in the blink of an eye before he had struck her down to the shock and utter horror of his other generals. He had seen no other path to take. If he had left Narti alive, the witch would have easily sent her after him or the entire empire at her disposal.

Lotor snorted as he remembered his current predicament.

Either way, it didn’t matter much now. He was a fugitive. Zarkon had made sure of that. Wherever he went, he could never rest easily and it only made him furious to wonder how much that witch had a hand in his current situation.

But he had himself to blame.

He was the one who chose to kill Narti. The one who chose to keep a secret as to why he killed her from the rest of his generals. His silence had been what lead to their betrayal. A betrayal that cut him to his core and hurt as much as when he awoke, found himself handcuffed, and being taken back to the empire.

Breathing deeply in an effort to quash the tumultuous feelings brewing inside of him. He was hardly surprised to hear the ding of the elevator at the end of the long walkway that lead to his single cell. It a few vargas since he gave the Black Paladin and princess any information, so he was hardly surprised that they would be back down for more. Opening his eyes, Lotor lifted his head. Who he saw instead, caused a flicker of surprise to burn in his eyes.

He couldn’t help himself as the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk.

“I suppose this pleasure is mine...Blue Paladin.”

 

The sound of his video game filled the entirety of the room. The bright lights from the screen hurt Lance’s eyes. He groaned as he paused the game, tossed down the controller, and rubbed at his weary eyes.

He didn’t know how long he’d been playing the video game for, but he’d been using it lately as a means of having something to do when he found he couldn’t fall asleep due to the nightmares. And right now, he needed to distract himself from the fact that Lotor was just a few levels below him in a cell. And it was working…for a while.

Lance groaned as he flopped onto his back and tried desperately to not think about Lotor, but that proved futile as his brain decided it would be a good hour to betray him. He was still beating himself up for even speaking up for Lotor. He’d thought he’d done the right thing. Everyone else was ganging up on Lotor, ready to throw him out to the proverbial space wolves without giving him a chance to tell his side of the story.

He couldn’t let that happen. It made him shudder to think about what could have potentially happened to Lotor if they tossed him back out into space just so he would fall into Zarkon’s clutches. None of the thoughts his brain churned out were things he wished to dwell on for more than a second. Suddenly sitting up, he was peeved at his mental train for chugging along a set of tracks he wished it hadn’t gone onto.

He couldn’t decide who he was more pissed at. Lotor for being so unreadable—why come to them? Yes, they were the biggest threat against Zarkon and the empire, but Lotor knew better than anyone else that his relationship right now with Voltron, the empire, pretty much anyone in the universe besides his generals was like taking a vacation to Death Valley without so much as a bottle of water. Or his teammates, who were more than ready to act like the villains in the situation.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on these thoughts as there was a rapid series of knocks against his door. He got up to answer it, but the door slid open, revealing Pidge on the other side and a stream of bright hallway light that had Lance throwing up his arm in an attempt to shield his eyes.

Pidge merely squinted at him, her lips puckered together as she looked like she wanted to make a joke about Lance being a space vampire or something else. But she suppressed her desires to do so and merely informed him about the urgent message that had brought her to his door. “There’s an emergency. Allura’s summoning everyone to the bridge.”

“Woah.” Lance’s brows pinched together as he quickly fluttered around his room, shucking off his robe as he searched for his clothes that weren’t his pajamas. He unbuttoned his top, but paused midway and turned around to see that Pidge was still watching him. “A little privacy?”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge turned away from him. “You do realize I’ve grown up with a brother since I was born, right? It’s not like I haven’t seen anything before.”

“Yea, but we’re not—” Lance trailed off as he finished unbuttoning his top and grabbed his shirt.

“Related?” Pidge scoffed. “Geneticists everywhere quiver in their shoes at the fact that we don’t share an ounce of familial DNA. But that doesn’t discount the fact that I consider you a brother.”

Lance snorted as he finished getting dressed. “You can turn around now.” Pidge turned around and gave him a low whistle.

“Nice transformation. I wouldn’t even know that on the inside you’re a cave-dwelling hobgoblin.”

Giving her a roll of his eyes, he walked over to her, reached out, and pulled her into a hug. She squirmed in the embraced, wrinkled up her nose, and groaned about how much he smelt like a teenage boy. Which caused Lance to give her a pointed look. “I’m still technically a teenage boy.” Pidge stuck her tongue out at him as she slipped out of his grasp.

“Not as of today.” There was an impish grin stretching across her face as she punched Lance in the arm. He made a face as if it hurt—it really didn’t, but he liked seeing her happy when she thought that her punches weren’t the equivalent of a kitten lightly smacking someone on the arm. “On Earth, it’s July 28th, so happy birthday, Lance. You’re officially an old man. What’s it like being so old? How’s cataracts and arthritis?”

Laughing softly, Lance just reached out and ruffled her hair, much to her protest. He was officially 18, huh, that means he’d been in space for nearly a year. He tried not to let the sadness well up and seep into his veins and instead focused on what Pidge had originally come to retrieve him for. “So, why’s Allura calling an emergency meeting?”

Pidge shrugged her shoulders as she began to walk away. “She wouldn’t say.”

Lance didn’t have a good feeling about this as he followed after her.

They made their way to the bridge and Allura’s grim face didn’t bode as a good sign to Lance.

“What’s going on?” Matt asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

Shiro gave a quick glance to Allura and Coran, before addressing everyone. “We have an incoming transmission...from Zarkon.”

“Zarkon!?” Hunk’s brows couldn’t have possibly gone up higher into his hairline. “Like _the_ Zarkon? Emperor of the empire?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are we sure this isn’t an imposter or something?”

Nodding gravely, Allura couldn’t help the look of despair coloring her face. “Unfortunately. It is.”

“Well,” Keith looked absolutely displeased, “what does he want?”

“We’re going to find out.” Shiro turned to Coran and gave him a nod. The Altean’s fingers flew across the panel in front of him before a holographic screen of Zarkon’s face appeared before them all.

“Paladins of Voltron.”

“Zarkon,” Allura hissed in disgust, “what do you want?”

“A trade. My son for something that you all want.”

Allura frowned at his words. “And what is it that we want?”

Zarkon snapped his fingers, Acxa and Zethrid stepped into sight, carrying a middle-aged man—who was a few inches taller than Matt—there was a thick beard gracing his jaw.

“Dad!” Pidge and Matt shouted in unison. Turning his head, Lance could see there were tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Sam Holt for my son. There are to be no negotiations, no bargains. Accept the deal as it is.”

“And what if we don’t?” Allura was tense as she settled her steely gaze on Zarkon, who simply narrowed at her.

“You won’t.” The transmission ended there, leaving everyone in the room in a hushed silence.

Lance ran a hand through his locks, trying to process everything that he just saw. Lotor’s generals seemingly now worked for Zarkon, which a box he didn’t think he was ready to unpack and dump into Lotor’s lap with a million other questions.

Sighing, Allura turned to face everyone. “Get some rest. We’ll regroup in a few vargas to think Zarkon’s deal over.”

Everyone began to disperse from the room to wallow in whatever feelings were stirring in them silently. But Lance had other plans.

Speeding out of the room, Lance made his way to the elevator, the doors sliding shut in front of him as he jabbed his index finger at a single button. The elevator lurched as it began its descent down into the depths of the ship. Coming to a stop, Lance exited the elevator and paused; trepidation weighing heavily in the hollow of his throat, shaking his head, he psyched himself up. Deciding that _he_ at least deserved to know about the deal Zarkon had tossed onto the proverbial table. Plus he needed answers to a few questions that he had.

It gave him the courage he needed to continue his walk until he was standing directly in front of the cell. Lotor’s eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, but they slipped open as a small smirk tugged at the corners of Lotor’s lips as he saw that it was him. There was a curious light burning in his eyes that made Lance wish he had a coat on to cover himself with. It felt like he was being picked apart and examined.

Lance steeled his nerves as Lotor’s lips parted and he breathed out a single sentence.

“I suppose this pleasure is mine...Blue Paladin.”

 

Lotor was amused as he watched the Blue Paladin pace in front of his cell. He was cupping his chin with a hand, his brows pinched together, and his lips twisted in a line of agitation and worry.

“Do the other Paladins know that you’re down here?”

Lance stopped in his tracks, swiveled his head in Lotor’s direction, said nothing, and resumed his pacing. From his lack of response, Lotor inferred that the other Paladins didn’t know that their beloved teammate was down here.

“Zarkon’s trying to trade you for Holt.”

Lotor drew in a single breath. Well…wasn’t that splendid.

Raising a single brow, Lotor cocked his head to the side, not quite understanding why Zarkon wanted to exchange him for a man he knew nothing about. Lance, seemingly understanding that Lotor wouldn’t know who Holt was answered his unanswered question for him. “He’s Pidge’s father.” Lotor’s brow was still raised. “The Green Paladin?”

Letting out a sigh of understanding, Lotor gave him a small shrug of his shoulders. “Truth be told, I would do the same thing.”

Lance paused yet again, his brows furrowing deeper together. “Yea, but...it’s not a good trade.”

“Why isn’t it? The rest of your teammates clearly don’t like me, some of them, in fact, look like they wish to murder me. In fact, it’s vital for the Green Paladin to get her father back, whereas, I hold no importance to the Paladins of Voltron.”

“You give us key information about Gara routes and fleet movements.”

There was a soft chuckle in the hollow of Lotor’s throat. “Key information that I wouldn’t doubt that your Green and Yellow Paladin couldn’t figure out a method of obtaining.”

Lance frowned at that, his arms falling to his sides, as he turned to face Lotor. “Why are you devaluing yourself?”

Shrugging, Lotor kept his gaze centered on Lance. “It’s simply the truth. My life is of no importance to the princess or the rest of you Paladins, except for the limited information I can give you. Once my importance is done, who’s to say that it isn’t simply beneficial to get rid of me altogether.”

“But you matter to your generals.” Lance’s frown deepened as he remembered Acxa and Zethrid appearing on screen as they tugged Holt along. “What happened between you and them? They were seemingly working with Zarkon and....you’re here. So what happened?”

Brows rising, Lance felt his entire body tense as Lotor rose from his bed and made came close to the edge of his cell. He was looking down at Lance, who was a few inches smaller than him. Lance didn’t know what was wrong, but he could sense Lotor’s mask settling heavily onto his face. His blue eyes narrowed, the usual fire of curiosity and amusement in them smothered and instead replaced with a cold, sheet of ice that reeked of a practiced authority that allowed for no chinks to be made in Lotor’s armor.

Lance shivered instinctively at the cold, indifferentness Lotor was projecting. He tried to steel himself for whatever was coming, but nothing he did could have prepared him for Lotor’s next words.

“Because,” Lotor whispered, “I killed one of them.”

Lance took a step back, his eyes blinking rapidly in surprise as he shook, his limbs feeling as if he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. He didn’t hear the pair of footsteps behind him.

“Lance?”

Swiveling on his feet, Lance turned and to his utter surprise found Allura and Shiro behind him. Distrust immediately overshadowed the confusion on her face as her eyes darted between Lance and Lotor. “Lance, did he harm you?”

Lance’s lips parted as he was prepared to tell Allura that wasn’t the case, but a sharp laugh drew everyone’s attention to Lotor. “Princess, if I wanted to harm the Blue Paladin. I would have come up with a method to break free of my bonds and done so.”

Allura looked as if she wished to tear him out of his cell and punch him. But she simply frowned and turned her attention back to Lance. “There’s a meeting on the bridge.” Without much more to say, she turned and stalked back to the elevator, leaving Shiro where he stood.

He’d been unusually silent the entire time. But stared at Lance, his gaze then darting to Lotor and back. He said nothing as he turned and followed after Allura.

Lance let out a long, weary sigh as he turned to follow after the both of them, but paused mid-step.

“Lance.”

“What?” Lotor’s brows pinched together as Lance turned on his feet to stare at him.

“Lance. It’s my name. You don’t have to call me the Blue Paladin. You can just use my name.” Lance didn’t stick around, instead, he made his way to the elevator without sparing a glance behind him.

Lotor watched him as he departed; as the elevator climbed toward the upper levels of the ship and Lance disappeared from his sight. He couldn’t help the unbidden smile that stretched across his face as he repeated Lance’s name silently to himself; how he enjoyed the way it weighed nicely on the tip of his tongue.

 

To Lance’s utter expectation the bridge was embroiled in an argument when he walked in. As everyone argued about what to do; whether they should accept Zarkon’s deal or not.

“So what!” Pidge shouted as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I say we give him Lotor. One less threat to Zarkon. One less threat to us.” There were some mumbled agreements at that sentiment that had Lance drawing in a hissed breath.

There were times he wouldn’t have even dreamed about being the dissenting opinion. Even if the actions and choices that the rest of his teammates made bugged or annoyed him.

“So, what you’re saying is that we get on the same level as Zarkon?” All eyes narrowed at him.

“Lance,” Keith frowned at him. “This is Pidge and Matt’s father we’re talking about. Zarkon is willing to give him to us in exchange for Lotor. What’s one innocent life versus Zarkon’s son?”

Incredulously scoffing, Lance glared at Keith. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Isn’t our duty as Paladins of Voltron to protect everyone in the universe, to protect and promote peace. Not stoop to the same level as Zarkon.”

“Lance.” Allura paused, her eyes pointed toward the ground as she searched for the right words to say. “We have to accept the deal; you heard Zarkon. It’s his terms and only his. There’s no room for negotiations. I don’t like trusting the Galra, but this may be our only option to get Sam Holt back.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at her choice of words. There was a harsh edge to his words; as sharp as a knife as he whispered out. “Ok, I get it.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So you don’t like trusting the Galra unless they happen to be Keith or the Blade of Mamora.”

Letting out a nervous laugh, Hunk quickly stepped in between a shocked and hurt Allura and Lance who glared disapprovingly at her. “Lance, you know that’s not what Allura meant.”

Lance turned his glare against Hunk. “Then what did she mean? That Lotor isn’t trustworthy despite freely giving us a bunch of information already? Or because everyone on this ship is afraid that he’s going to be Zarkon 2.0 because he didn’t get the ability to pick who his dad was?”

“So, what!?” Keith shouted, despite Pidge reaching out to tug on one of Keith’s arms. He looked about ready to vault across the room, get up in Lance’s face and have a screaming match with him. “Why are you defending him now!? Why are you so, dead set on defending him when he’s the one who kidnapped and tortured you!? Or have you forgot about that?”

Not even bothering to dignify him with a response, Lance instead observed everyone. _Truly_ observed them and realized that his teammates—his closest friends—were more than willing to play judge, jury, and executioner at this moment. He realized it was fruitless to even argue on Lotor’s behalf. They’d all already made their minds up the second Zarkon had offered them the deal in the first place.

Lance scoffed, even as Keith continued to talk. Continued to lash out with words that burrowed themselves underneath Lance’s skin. “You’ve changed, Lance. Ever since you’ve been back, you’ve changed.”  Lance’s fingers curled inward to his palms. He bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from shouting. He was building a dam to contain the rage and anger that was boiling inside of him. “You’re not the old Lance anymore,” Keith continued, “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

The dam broke.

“I’m not normal anymore, Keith!” The words came tumbling out of Lance; his shout a lion’s roar that drowned out everyone else. “I haven’t been normal since I got back! I haven’t slept in _days_! Because every time I shut my eyes, I think I’m back on that ship again! I think I’m back in that torture room again, strapped down to a table, but no I’m back in my bed, where I wake up every single night covered in my own sweat and tears.”

“Lance,” Hunk whispered his name, he made a step toward Lance, but stopped, his lips twisting into a frown as he considered whether it was a right decision to hug him at this moment.

“No!” Lance shouted. “You guys want to pretend that Lotor is just like Zarkon. He’s not.”

Allura shook her head as if she couldn’t believe Lance was defending Lotor to them all. “Lance, you’re confused. You’re conflicted. _Lotor tortured you_.”

Letting out a bitter snort, removed his jacket as he continued to talk. “Yea, he did, but what Zorak did to me was way worse.” A gasp tore itself from Allura’s lips as she took a step back, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Hunk and Pidge paled, Coran looked flabbergasted as he stared at Lance’s skin, Matt’s gaze was steely as if the faint dots lining Lance’s skin wasn’t the worse he’d ever seen. And Shiro...Shiro looked like he wasn’t trying to relive whatever it was the Galra had done to him.

But everyone stared. They stared at the faint circular marks on Lance’s arms from the torture Zorak had inflicted on him. The medical salve Lance had smeared onto his skin had left behind unblemished skin the first couple of times that he had used it, but the more frequent the torture became and creative, the more scars it had left behind on his skin. The small circular puncture wounds on his arms had left behind scars that while faint, were still apparent on his skin. They’d be there for a while as they slowly faded away, but long enough that Lance’s memories wouldn’t be the only reminder of what he’d endured. He didn’t need the team to know that there were scars on his torso that he didn’t want them to see.

Coran was the only voice that cut through the silence. “Zorak?”

“Yea,” Lance mumbled, “he got sent to the ship after Lotor couldn’t pull any information out of me. These aren’t even the worst of the wounds anyway...there were some that were much worse, but Lotor gave me a medicinal salve that healed them.”

And there it was again, that mention of Lotor’s name that had Allura frowning, her hands slipping away from her mouth as she went back to accusing him again. “He must have had ulterior motives. Lotor’s not... _generous_ like that.”

Lance sighed audibly through his nose. “He’s complicated, but that doesn’t make him a carbon copy of Zarkon.”

Keith shook his head, his own stubbornness like a trunk of a tree. Unyielding and bowing to no element that came his way. “Then, Lotor must have done something mentally to you. Do you realize, you’re defending a monster, Lance?”

Unable to help the bitter laughter that wormed its way out of his chest. “Lotor, a monster? Keith, you don’t know what a monster is. _I do_. And Zorak was the biggest monster of them all.”

“Lance—” Keith growled out, but Lance cut him off.

“Just stop, Keith! Just stop and listen to me for once! I want all of you to stop pretending like everything is normal; that everything is back to the way it was before because it’s not. _I’m not!_ ” He couldn’t help the fat, searing droplet of tears that were rolling down his cheeks; obscuring his vision so that it was becoming blurry to see. He reached up and tried to rub his tears away, but they still spilled down his cheeks. “Stop trying to pretend that I’m back to being normal because I’m not.” He was _so_ tired; so mentally tired that he wanted to lie down and never get back up. “And I’m never going to be. Do you know what happened on that ship? I broke. I _broke_. I thought I would never come back to this ship. I thought I would never get to see my family again. Never get to see you guys again. And the only thing that kept me going was when Lotor told me you guys were coming to rescue me.”

There was a wave of shock that gripped the room at Lance’s revelation. But Lance knew that the judgment had already been passed when Allura softly sighed and gave a small shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Lance, but this has to be done.”

He was more than mentally tired and done with everything as he turned on his heels and started to walk out of the room, not without saying one final thing. “Sure, just keep telling yourself that.”

Lance had nearly made it to his room when he heard someone shouting his name from behind him. He turned and saw that it was Shiro who let out a deep breath as he skidded toward Lance.

“What do you want, Shiro?” Lance sounded incensed as he crossed his arms.

Shiro looked a little surprised at Lance’s tone, but considering all that had just happened, he wasn’t _that_ surprised. Instead, he did something that Lance found surprising. He reached out and pulled Lance into a hug. Lance found himself stiffening at the contact for the first few seconds, but he melted into it as he pressed his face into Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m here...if you need anyone to talk to about...what you went through.”

“I know,” Lance whispered, “but I think I just want to be alone for a bit.” He could feel Shiro nod as he pulled away from him.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Shiro told him, before nodding at Lance and walking away.

Lance sure hoped it would be, but he didn’t exactly have a good feeling in his gut about it.

 

He was pissed. More than pissed. Beyond pissed. Whatever Lance was feeling, he was nowhere close to being happy as he flew over the planet, his eyes raking over the sandy planes as he searched for Lotor and Zarkon.

“Does anyone see them?” Hunk’s voice crackled in his ear as Lance bit down on the tip of his tongue to keep himself from cursing out Shiro in whatever language decided to come out of his mouth.

He’d been pissed for the last few days about this entire deal with Zarkon. About how his friends could so easily become the very thing they preached against, how Lotor devalued himself as a person, how earlier in the day they’d all gone down to Lotor’s cell to tell him that they’d be wrapping him a bow and handing him over to Zarkon, where he’d simply rehashed everything Lotor had pointed out, and now it had come to everyone’s attention that Shiro had given Lotor his Bayard.

So yea, Lance was definitely beyond pissed.

“No,” Allura’s voice rumbled in his ears, “I don’t see them.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at a plume of smoke that was some distance away. It was thick and obscuring and made it difficult to see, but he tapped a few keys and brought up the scoping camera on his lion. The smoke began to settle and it allowed Lance to see Lotor’s back pressed up against a sizeable rock formation that a giant gaping hole in it. He watched as Lotor crumbled to the ground and Zarkon stood before him, a giant gun connected to the arm of his armor as he pointed the muzzle at Lotor and prepared to fire it.

“No,” Lance harshly whispered as he shouted to the other Paladins that he had found the two of them. Lance was grateful that Red had a bit of kick to him as he raced past the other Lions and shot at Zarkon, the other Lions catching up to him as they shot at Zarkon as well, kicking up a ton of dust and debris that obscured their vision of Zarkon.

A bright orb of purple light cut through the dust as it settled away and revealed that Zarkon had his weapon trained on them. Lance tuned out the volley of curses that were falling from Hunk’s lips as Shiro ordered that they all retreat as quickly as they could. Instead, Lance’s eyes were trained on Lotor as quickly pushed himself to his feet and grabbed a piece of metal that had fallen off of the crashed ship beside him. The boosters built into his armor flashed as he flew across the field and everything went a dazzling shade of purple for a few moments as Lance threw a single arm in front of his eyes and he heard the other Paladins groaning in his ears. But when Lance pulled his arm away, his mouth fell open in shock as he watched the light fade from Zarkon’s armor and Lance stare up at them as the sun on this planet rose, casting Lotor’s outline in a halo of golden-orange light.

“Alright, we need to pick up Lotor, head back to the castle and fly to a safe planet.”

Hunk began to speak, “I’ll pick him u—”

“No,” Lance interrupted as he kept his eyes trained on Lotor. He was now looking down at Zarkon’s lifeless body. His disheveled hair obscuring his face. “I’ll do it.”

“Lance,” Allura treated his name like it the stepping stone for an argument, but Shiro’s voice cut through any possibility of that happening.

“Lance, pick up Lotor and meet us back at the castle.”

Mumbling his confirmation at the orders, Lance kept his eyes trained on Lotor as he flew Red in close, landed him, and got out of the Lion so that he could look up at the sky and see the retreating forms of Hunk and Allura’s Lions as well as the ship holding Sam Holt, his kids, and Shiro. Turning his gaze away from the retreating forms, Lance instead fixed it on Lotor’s curled up fist. He could see the slight shake of it, could see the taught lines in Lotor’s back. And Lance didn’t know what to say to him. _I’m sorry Zarkon was an abusive piece of shit who ordered an entire empire to murder you_ wouldn’t cut it. Nothing would ever cut it because Lotor had 10,000 years of built up pain brewing inside of him like a stew someone forgot to take off of the stove. No matter what Lance could possibly come up with, he couldn’t erase eons of hurt and pain with a few single words or carefully constructed sentence.

Nothing would.

Even if Lotor managed to get rid of some of the pain, the scars were already there and would be there.

“What do you want to do with his body?” Lance jerked his chin at Zarkon’s lifeless form. A move that finally got Lotor to glance at him. His eyes seemed as lifeless as Zarkon’s body.

Taking a deep breath, Lotor paused, his eyes slipping shut again as he wrestled with the emotions inside of him. “We should bury him.” His voice was soft, barely even anything above a whisper. But Lance nodded anyway and gently told Lotor that he would go back aboard Red, see if there was anything that could be used to dig a hole. Going back into Red, Lance searched the cockpit, cabin, and storage room on the Lion for anything that was similar or the equivalent to a shovel. He eventually found a small tube with a small switch on it, which when pressed transformed into something that reminded him of a spade.

He supposed it would have to make do.

Making his way out of the Lion and back to Lotor’s side, Lance held out the slim tube. “This is all I could find.”

Lotor stared at it; the face of a wounded man that was trying desperately to not crumble underneath the pressure of having murdered Zarkon—his abuser; his father.

Clearing his throat, Lance glanced at the tube. “I can do this if you don’t feel—”

Lotor gave a soft shake of his head. “No. This is my duty and mine alone.” Lance held out the tube, which Lotor gratefully took from him.

They settled into a lulled silence as Lotor began to dig a hole in the hard-packed earth below their feet. Dropping to his knees, Lance used his hands to scoop up any loose dirt that fell back into the hole. He didn’t know how long the two of them were there for, but the sun was high in the sky, sweat dripping from their skin when they finally rose and looked at their handiwork. There was a decent sized hole in the ground, one that wasn’t six feet under, but big enough that they could put Zarkon in it and prevent his body from being used as a snack for any natural predators that existed on the planet.

They both moved toward Zarkon’s body. Lotor paused as he stared at the lifeless form and for a second made Lance think that he was going to break down right in front of him. But he took another deep breath to ground himself and instead, bent down and started to drag Zarkon toward the freshly dug hole. They buried him and Lance groaned as he stood up, dirt smudging a single cheek. Low on the horizon, the sun was merely half of a dark golden blob in the sky.

Lotor’s head was bowed over the makeshift grave and Lance watched as his shoulders slightly shook. “We have to get back,” Lance suggested softly, only earning a nod from Lotor.

They walked back to the Lion, Lotor silently standing behind Lance’s seat as they took off into the air and made their journey back to the castle ship. When they finally got back to the castle, Allura was surprisingly waiting for them both.

She avoided Lance’s gaze—their relationship had been...tense since Lance’s outburst a few days ago. Their relationship was a wine glass that had a spider web of cracks running along it. You didn’t know when it would shatter into pieces completely, but you knew that it was broken. She focused on Lotor, her gaze a mixture of slightly embarrassed and sheepish. “Lotor, could we talk?”

Lotor nodded, giving Lance a quick glance before he walked away with Allura. Lance, pursed his lips, staring at their retreating backs as they disappeared into the hallway of the castle. Removing his helmet, Lance stared forlornly at the closed doors. He didn’t want to attach a feeling to it, but they shared something back there in that lulled quietness, the way they’d share quiet moments like that when Lance was a hostage.

He didn’t know what it quite meant, but Lance knew that he’d been allowed to see more sides of Lotor than anyone besides his generals had seen.

 

Lotor’s head was bowed, his fingers laced together as he stared down at his feet from the steps he sat on in the bridge. Allura stood in front of him, her back turned toward him and her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was uncomfortable around him, that much was plain to see.

She’d hardly spoken a word to him since they walked into the bridge He was still covered in dirt and sweat from having buried his father just a few vargas before. He let out a snort, an action that had Allura turning her head at the sound and narrowing her eyes slightly at him, before turning her head away to avoid his gaze.

He couldn’t believe that he’d finally done something he dreamed about doing for centuries. He’d slain his own father with his hands. Lotor glanced down at them, half expecting to see them coated in his own father’s blood, but they were clean and bare, save for the smudges of dirt on his hands. He felt numb to everything; numb to the fact that Zarkon was truly dead, numb to the fact that right now news of his death would be racing through the empire, racing through distant planets that were overjoyed that their biggest oppressor was no longer breathing. Most of all, he was numb to the turbulent emotions that broiled within him. He was glad Zarkon was dead, but part of him felt guilty for his actions as well. Something he’d felt sparks and glimmers of before, but he chose to never dwell too long on. Sighing, he could feel the castle slightly lurch as it began its descent down to the planet Olkarion. A safe haven planet that the red-haired Altean had casually mentioned to him was a planet that was part of the Coalition and would be a good place to hide and recoup their energy before deciding what to do next.

Though Lotor wasn’t sure if that information was for his benefit or a means of cutting through the awkward silence that filled the bridge.

“Coran, could you go fetch the Paladins. Tell them we’re having a meeting on the bridge.”

Coran nodded his head in Allura’s direction as he left the bridge leaving the two of them alone.

“They should be here any minute.” Allura murmured, still refusing to look in Lotor’s general direction.

“Good.” Lotor kept his gaze trained on the floor, but his gaze briefly flickered upward as he watched Allura turn and face him. “There is much to discuss.”

“Are you alright?”

He blinked with surprise at Allura’s question. But knew that she was asking more for her own benefit than his. “I’ll be fine.” He simply replied, he wouldn’t be fine, not for quite some time, but eventually he would get there.

Allura didn’t speak; she didn’t say anything for a few moments, even as the rigidity of her gaze melted into something that was clement and soft. “What you did was for the greater good and for many of us proof of your intentions for peace.” Lifting his head, Lotor stared at Allura. There was a glimmer of idealistic hope burning in her eyes that just made him more tired than he was.

In his eyes, she was still no more than a bumbling child. A child protected away from the harsh realities of what it took to rule and it simply made him want to laugh, to see the crinkle of her brows as she stared at the sharp points of his teeth as they were exposed to the world. The way tears would slip from the corners of his eyes as he took in gasping breaths as the laughter began to subside. Because she, thought that him having his own father’s blood upon his hands was a testament of peace; a testament of his proof that he truly wanted peace in the universe compared to him willingly being taken as a prisoner and giving up every bit of information he had, despite the distrust and willingness every Paladin had felt as they all agreed to trade him for Sam Holt. A trade he had pointed out for vargas, wouldn’t be fair to them at all as Zarkon would have traps and tricks laid out for them, despite their beliefs that Zarkon would keep his word and give them Holt...every Paladin beside Lance. Who seemingly was the only one to put any sort of faith in him, despite Lotor being so unworthy of it.

As the doors to the bridge parted open, Lotor and Lance’s eyes met and for the first time in what felt like years, Lotor could feel some of the tension he was carrying in his body melt away.

 

Lance was stunned silent as Lotor explained the Kral Zera to all of them and his plans for it. Not only was it the most insane plan he’d ever heard of his entire life, but they would essentially be removing themselves from the proverbial lion's den to inhabit the den of their enemies. But he was stunned more by Shiro, the source of calm and reason amongst their group, agreed to Lotor’s plan without so much as any other input from the rest of them.

"Shiro, this plan doesn’t sound reasonable.” Lance tried to argue as Shiro thought it was sane for them all to go to a location that was going to be jammed pack with Galra leaders all fighting for a chance at the throne.

But instead, that only got him a glare from Shiro. “Lance, this isn’t your call.”

“But, Shiro—”

Shiro whirled on Lance so quick that it had him taking a step back. “This isn’t a debate, Lance. I’m the leader of Voltron.”

That just made Lance’s blood boil as he remembered the Black Bayard in Lotor’s hands. “Just because you’re the leader of Voltron, doesn’t mean you can make every single decision by yourself! Like giving Lotor your Bayard, what was th—”

There was something so inhuman and dark in Shiro’s eyes when he stared at Lance with a cold, cruelty in his eyes that Lance had never seen before. “I told you to stay out of this.”

Hunk—ever the peacemaker—quickly stepped in between the two of them, suggested that everyone take a break and get some fresh Olkarion air.

Lance huffed as he swiveled on his feet and left the bridge, he was speed walking away when he nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sensation of a presence behind him. His hand flew to his heart as he doubled over and glared at Lotor. “Please, warn a guy, the next time you walk behind him.”

Seeing Lance’s reaction to him, caused a smirk to tug at Lotor’s lips. “Does the leader of the Paladins...generally react that way all the time?”

Lance realized that he was talking about Shiro’s outburst. There was a sardonic smile that slipped across his face as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “No. Shiro’s just been...testy for a while now.”

Lotor made a soft, little hum as he nodded at the information. Letting the smile drop from his lips, Lance stared at Lotor, looking him over, before asking. “How are you doing?”

“Like I mentioned to Allura, I’ll be fine.”

Lance didn’t believe him; he could see that Lotor’s body language was still stiff. He knew the way Lotor had seemed so dead inside as they flew back to the castle after burying Zarkon. “No.”

The single word had Lotor blinking in surprise, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lance with a look that almost seemed as scandalized as if Lance hadn’t just disagreed with Lotor about his own mental state, but had walked in on him getting undressed. Lance’s eyes widened at the thought, a blush rising to his cheeks as he quickly stomped down on the mental imagery. “I mean, that you’re not okay, that is. You’re not okay and you’re not going to be for quite some time.” Lotor opened his mouth in an attempt to protest Lance’s assertion, but Lance poked him in the chest with a single index finger, which caused a look of incredulity to sweep over Lotor’s face. “You’ve been through a lot in the last several hours. Your killed Zarkon, who while he may have been the world’s shittiest dad was still related to you. He put you through centuries of shit, had you exiled, labeled as an enemy of the empire.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you need a break. Some relaxation time for yourself.”

Lotor hummed at the idea, he raised a single hand to cup his chin. “I’ll take you up on your offer...Lance.”

He couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his own face.

 

A single fight later—it just seemed like Voltron couldn’t catch a break, neither they or the Olkari—and Lance and Lotor found themselves in the kitchen. Two glasses of fresh milkshakes between them. Lotor reached out for the drink Lance had placed in front of him and stared at it suspiciously.

“If you’re worried there’s poison in it,” Lance couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips as he rolled his eyes. “Trust me, but I didn’t put any in it, even if I was tempted to.”

Lotor still looked a little reluctant to drink it, so Lance simply reached across the table, grabbed Lotor’s drink and took a sip from it. A single brow raised on his forehead as if he was daring Lotor to say that the drink was poisoned after he took a sip from it.

“Very well then,” Lotor mumbled as he grasped the straw protruding from his milkshake with his index finger and thumb, pulling it toward his lips, he wrapped them around it and took a sip of the cold drink. His eyes widened in surprise as he pulled his mouth away from the drink.

“It’s pretty good. Right?”

Lotor hummed to himself. “I will admit. It’s interesting. Like nothing, I’ve ever tasted before. How do you make it?”

“Well—” Lance started before there was a loud, audible gasp that tore through the kitchen. It reminded Lance of the soap operas his mom and older sister loved to watch on weekday mornings; the ones where some wife would find out her husband was cheating on her with her sister or something. Like a blur, Coran came rushing into the kitchen and knocked Lotor’s drink out of his hand as if it wasn’t a foreign delicacy, but a bomb. The cold treat spilled out across the kitchen table, as milk, cream, and the single cherry Lance had topped the drink with made a slow crawl across the table.

Lotor looked absolutely perplexed at the situation and glanced at Lance, who shared the same sentimentality as they both simply stared at Coran who stared at them both ominously. “You don’t want to know,” the older Altean whispered as if he was delivering a cryptic message, before slowly walking backward out of the kitchen. His eyes trained on the two of them until he disappeared out of their sights.

“Okay, well that was weird,” Lance mumbled underneath his breath. He got up from his seat to quickly find something to clean up the spilled drink with and ended up pushing his drink across the table. “You can have mine. Just don’t say anything that might get Coran to come back and knock this one out of your hand too.”

“Isn’t this yours?” Lotor’s eyes were narrowed at him.

“It is, but I’m giving it to you.”

“Why?”

That single word resonated in Lance’s soul. He took in a deep breath as he realized that despite having lived for so long, Lotor probably never had someone do something for him that didn’t have an ulterior motive hidden behind it. He shrugged, avoiding Lotor’s gaze. “Because I want to. So just take the drink before I steal it back from you.”

Lotor took the drink without a single complaint, but he still stared suspiciously at Lance as if in any second he was going to jump on the table, point at Lotor and shout _surprise your drink was actually spiked_. Lance merely shook his head as he cleaned up the table with a rag he found and sat back down in his seat. “So, emperor, huh?”

“Yes,” Lotor scowled, avoiding Lance’s gaze. “It’s merely one of the better outcomes that everyone could hope for in this situation. If I don’t appear at Kral Zera, then that gives plenty of other Galra who are vying for the throne the opportunity they need.”

“Is that a bad thing though? I doubt that there are Galra who could be anywhere close to Zarkon.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily a bad thing.” Lotor frowned down at his drink. “But there are plenty of Galra who could ascend the throne who are far worse than Zarkon...or Zorak. The best chance that I have or that anyone has for the empire to change is for me to install myself on the throne.”

“And why do you think that?”

Lotor paused, his frown deepening. “Because I will give the universe a chance that it never got under Zarkon; while it may not wipe away the pain and suffering that millions have undergone during the centuries of Galra rule. There must be a start somewhere.”

Lance studied Lotor’s face as he spoke. As he considered the weight of Lotor’s words. He was right, while Lotor was complicated and unpredictable, and the rest of the Paladins and the Coalition as a whole would be wary of him. Lotor was their best option foreseeably to put on the throne.

“Well, if you’re planning on putting yourself on the throne. The best thing for you to do is to have a conversation with people who’ve been affected by the empire, learn what happened to them, learn how you can make the empire better.”

Lotor snorted, “there are millions of people who were and are affected by the empire. So where would I even begin?”

Cracking a single smile, Lance motioned to the space around him. “Your journey begins here.”


	8. Coran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing something a little different and by a little different I mean really exploring how a lot of the events in the series have impacted Team Voltron, as well as exploring some of the character's individual pasts. Each chapter will focus on an individual character and will be uploaded every Saturday until we reached the last member of Team Voltron. 
> 
> I'm sorry for any emotional suffering you may endure reading these chapters.

Fingers flying over the console in front of him, Coran hardly noticed the doors to the bridge sliding open or the figure that passed through them.

“You're the only one who hasn't made any attempt to show your displeasure at my presence aboard the ship.”

There was a worldly sigh that fell from Coran’s lips, fingers stilling against the keys in front of him; eyes slowly shutting as he prepared to face someone he hadn’t been expecting to see. He slowly turned around, his eyes slowly opening, even as his face possessed a deep frown that made him look older than his age; a crestfallen look painting his face that barely encapsulated the true depth of loss and pain that Coran had suffered through in his life. “Prince Lotor.” There was a gruff weariness to Coran’s voice that had Lotor considering if Lance’s advice was practical at this moment. “I apologize for not making you feel as welcome as I truly should have.”

“There’s no need for you to make me feel welcome. In fact, I wouldn’t expect less for you or the other Paladins to feel wary of me right now.”

A single brow rose on Coran’s face as he twisted his torso to peer at Lotor. “Then is there something that I can help you with?”

Pensively, Lotor crossed his arms in front of his chest, his index finger idly tapping at the bulge of muscle beneath his fingertip. He hummed, “I suppose, you and I could converse about the multitude of ways the Galra Empire has impacted your life and caused you suffering.”

Shock colored Coran’s face, his brows pinching together as his lips twisted into something that was akin to a tired grimace. “Forgive me for being so curt, Lotor, but no matter what I choose to tell you or even if I choose to do so, will bring back anything that I’ve lost or erase what I feel. Now if you’ll excuse me—” Coran paused, motioning to the hologram behind him that was lit up with diagnostics of the Castle. “—I have work to do.” Turning his back on Lotor, the Galran Prince couldn’t help but feel that Lance’s plan wasn’t working.

If he was supposed to be listening to how the empire had personally impacted other’s lives shouldn’t these people aboard this Castle be more than willing to prostrate themselves before his feet? Pour out their hearts and souls into his lap as they listed one by one how the empire had ripped their families, hopes, and dreams away from their arms? This wasn’t going like he had expected it to.

Instead, Lotor sighed. “As the Blue Pal—Lance—put it in his Earth term. Do you want to talk about it?”

Coran turned his head to stare at Lotor, there was something flickering in his eyes—bewilderment? Surprise?—Lotor didn’t know what, but there was a small smile on his lips as he simply whispered. “No.” The older Altean turned back around, his hands engrossing themselves into the work before him.

Sharply sniffing in disgust, Lotor let out a low growl in the hollow of his throat. This clearly wasn’t helping him if the old Altean wasn’t planning on talking and it only made the prospects of talking to the other Paladins even more dim in his eyes. If he was keen on building up an empire that wasn’t living in the oppressive shadow of his father’s corpse, he needed these people to talk to him and their refusal was more than a hindrance and annoyance to him. “Lance told me that in order to overcome pain it was best to talk about it.”

That made the Altean stop. His fingers still against the keyboard in front of him as a sigh ripped itself from his throat and his head fell forward as his shoulders slumped. “And sometimes it’s best not to dredge up old memories.” Lotor watched as Coran forced a smile on his face, forced a spark of joy to burn in eyes that were tired and weary; bogged down by the pain he refused to talk about.

It reminded him of himself.

“It’s almost like the time I dug up Araimrizi.” Coran continued. “Powerful little buggers; powerful jaws too! One time back when I was traveling with—”

“I didn’t come here for a tale.” Lotor’s words sliced through the air as the icy tone tore itself from Lotor’s throat. Coran simply stared at him, his brows raised as if he was almost pressuring Lotor to see what he would do. And it hit him like a slap to the face as he realized that years of experience and skills that Lotor had pared in comparison to Coran. The old man knew he was getting a rise out of him; knew that he was simply dodging the question, hiding behind the mask of a whimsical old man so he could avoid answering Lotor’s line of questions.

Lotor had pegged him as a stubborn sort, but no he was much more than that. That glimmer of what he had mistook as bewilderment in the old man’s eyes had been a cold, pitiful fury that he wasn’t used to seeing. “I know what you’re doing.” Lotor pressed him. “Constantly hiding your own pain behind walls, just so that you don’t have to face the tru—”

“Stop. Talking.” Coran’s words came out as a hushed whisper; there was a biting edge to them that only served to highlight the ruddy color of his cheeks as his face warmed with anger. The scalding fury that burned in his eyes and simply highlighted the tired lines that were etched into his face and made him look older than he truly was. “You don’t have a clue about what you’re trying to imply.”

“I know enough about myself to recognize the same thing in another.”

In the back of his mind, Lotor knew that he was watching the critical moment when Coran’s opposing game piece fell, giving him an advantageous hand over the entire field. He watched as Coran sighed, pressed a single hand against his forehead and walked over to a chair that he collapsed in. Leaning forward in it, he pressed his hands against his face, obscuring his features. There was a tense silence that hovered between them, until Coran had pulled his hands away exposing his weary face, his lips parted as he began to talk. “Do you know what it’s like? To wake up 10,000 years in the future to the knowledge that I and Princess Allura were the last of our people? The fact that I serve as her advisor with the unspoken knowledge that we have neither a home nor people to return to?

I mask my pain behind jokes and mirth because it’s easier to do so than to confront the fact that Allura and I lost everything 10,000 years ago.” Coran looked down at his own hands. His fingers curling inward to his palms as he let his eyes fall shut. Visions of dead friends, lovers, and family floated behind his eyes. Memories of happier times and moments in his life flittered behind them before they slipped back into the shadows of his mind. There was one face that he didn’t focus on for too long, but unbidden like a rain shower it gripped his mind as King Alfor’s face flashed in front of his eyes. His heart constricted inside of his chest as if it had been wrapped in thorns that burrowed into the flesh of the organ. Face burning with frustration, guilt, and anguish, he couldn’t help but think about King Alfor—a man he’d come over time to not only regard as a dear friend but something like a brother. They’d shared so many adventures together—sailing across the dunes of Pusolrit, spending multiple evenings with nothing but the glow of a campfire to illuminate their faces as they gazed up at the stars, standing beside Alfor as his best man at his wedding; watching the way the corner of Alfor’s eyes crinkled with happiness as he spotted Allura’s mother approaching down the aisle.  He’d been by Alfor’s side for so long and when Adrasteia married Alfor, Coran felt that he had gained another member of his family.

He remembered the day, Alfor had rushed to come find him. He’d been working on repairs to the castle with his grandfather. Alfor had looked so giddy when he’d grabbed Coran by the wrist and dragged him to his personal study inside of the castle. Adrasteia sat perched in a chair, her hands gently pressed against her stomach.

She’d lifted her head at the sound of the study door squeaking as Alfor and Coran made their way in. Alfor had turned to him, a maddening grin stretched across his face.

“We wanted to tell you first, my dear friend.”

“Tell me what?” It had struck him like a jolt of electricity as his eyes widened as he took in the small swell of Adrasteia’s stomach. “No,” he’d whispered.

She let out a sweet laugh; a laugh that reminded him of bells. “Yes.”

There was a shout of joy that rushed out of Coran’s mouth as he rushed over to her,  pulled her up into a hug that pulled her off her feet, and spun her around in a small circle before she was playfully imploring him to put her down. Setting her back on her feet, he stared at her stomach.

“Do you know what it is?”

Giving a soft shake of her head, she simply continued to smile. “No.” Was the simple response she gave, as she softly rubbed the swell of her stomach. “But I have the feeling it’ll be a little girl.” Glancing at her husband, her smile only seemed to widen. “And Alfor and I have talked already about this, but—” Pulling her hands away from her stomach, she reached out and grasped Coran’s own in hers. “—we’d both like it if you could name her.”

Shaking his head, Coran pulled his hand away from her grasp. “I can’t—I couldn’t. That’s—that’s such an honor.”

Soft footsteps fell against the plush carpet that lined the study as Alfor came over and rested his hand against Coran’s shoulder. “It is no honor, Coran. I consider you to be like a blood brother as if my own mother bore you herself. This is but a small gift that we can give to you.”

There was a smile that stretched across Coran’s face as he fell to his knees and pressed his hands against Adrasteia’s stomach. “I have the perfect name in mind,” he whispered, “Allura.”

Wrenching himself out of the bittersweet memory that gripped his mind, Coran gingerly wiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“You don’t know how difficult it is,” Coran whispered, his voice scratchy and broken from the flood of emotion that coated his throat. “To be by Allura’s side when she was a baby still being cuddled in her mother’s arms, to now a young adult forced to make decisions, be a leader that her parents would be proud of.” There was a sardonic smile stretched across his face as he paused to collect his words. “It was one thing to advise her from the comforts of the castle, where she could simply stand at the helm and serve as a beacon of peace; a token of inspiration amongst the casualty and horrors of war. But for her to be at the forefront of it as a Paladin. It just makes me fear ever having to lose her. There are times where I dread going to sleep, dread closing my eyes with the knowledge that's she's going to put herself in the forefront of danger the next day. I don't just worry about her simply as her advisor. But I'm the only thing close to family that she has left and she's the only thing close to family that I fear losing. I laugh and make jokes because it’s an easy thing to do that for a few moments, allows me to think of something other than the pain that may come if and when I lose Allura.” Lifting his head from his hands, Coran found himself solemnly gazing into Lotor’s eyes. “The pain that comes from losing those that you love...is something that takes time to heal, but the wound is still always going to be there.”

Nodding, Lotor found himself thinking of a dream he had some time ago. His mother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. A pang of pain resonated deeply in his stomach as his grip on his own arms tightened. “I know the feeling,” he whispered.

Coran simply bowed his head, rose from his seat, and strode over to Lotor. With an outstretched hand, he patted Lotor’s shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. Lotor didn’t know why but the older Altean had an aura about him that made him relax a little in his presence.

The corner of Coran’s mouth wrinkled a little in a tired smile as he said, “I believe this is the part where Lance tells me that we had a good talk.”

Letting out a little huff of a laugh, Lotor let the odd combination of words flow from his tongue. “We had a good talk.”

That phrase caused a smile to stretch across Coran’s features. He could see the mask settle itself back onto Coran’s face as his chipper personality won over—the little flicker of fear and doubt still burned in his eyes; it was something that Lotor was always going to be vigilant of, but he believed that the Altean today had allowed him to see a glimpse of himself that he had never shown to the other Paladins.

The older Altean ushered him from the bridge; saying there was important work left for him to do as he had to go through the entire diagnostics of the castle ship and that Lotor was free to do whatever he pleased.

As Lotor walked out of the bridge, he mindlessly roamed the halls of the castle, until he found himself standing in front of a door. It was decorated with little glowing stickers of various constellations, dwarf stars, and auroras. Lance had made sure to educate Lotor on whose room was whose on this ship by the various decorations they had placed up on the outside of their doors. Even as he raised a single fist to rap his knuckles against the metal of the door, Lotor wasn’t worried by the inevitable conversation he’d be having with the person who occupied this room.

“Come in.” The voice called out, slightly muffled by the thick metal of the door. At the sound of its occupants' voice and the express permission that Lotor was being granted entry to the room, the door slid open, revealing Allura sitting in front of a rather large mirror, the largest of her mice resting comfortably in her cupped hands as the others were perched upon her shoulders.

Her brows wrinkled together as a flicker of surprise and distrust bloomed in her eyes. “Lotor.”


	9. Allura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter that picks up where the last one ended. I personally love this chapter myself since...well...Allura has some minor growth in this one.

“May I come in?”

Blinking in surprise at Lotor’s words, she reluctantly nodded her head but watched him as carefully as if he’d had a knife hidden behind his back as he entered her bedroom. He stood just a few feet away from her, even as she awkwardly pointed to a spare chair in the room that she was attempting to offer to him as a seat.

Politely declining the offer with a simple shake of his head, he cleared his throat. “Princess.”

Raising a single hand in front of her as she stopped Lotor in his tracks, she gave a soft shake of her head. “It would feel most awkward if I kept referring to you as Lotor, yet you refer to me with my title. Please, just call me Allura, as all the other Paladins do.”

Though her smile was warm; an attempt to be friendly despite their past interactions with one another, it did little to ease the tension that was apparent in both of their shoulders.

She coughed, lifting a fist to her mouth, she repeated the same action with a sheepish look upon her face as if she was too afraid to ask why Lotor was standing in her room.

“I came because I wanted to simply talk.”

“Talk?” The word fumbled from her lips as if Allura had just heard it for the first time in her life. Her brows were pinched together, eyes icy pools of water that reflected Lotor’s face back to him.

“Yes, talk,” Lotor repeated himself, much to the consternation of Allura who simply continued to stare at him.

“About…?” She trailed off, her eyes flickering to her bedroom door as if she was considering either kicking Lotor out or running out the door herself.

“How you’ve suffered because of what...the Galra Empire has done to you personally.”

Those icy pools of water only seemed to grow colder as Allura fixed him with a stare that was equal parts distrust and uncomfortableness to the topic that had the mice perched on her shoulders arch their backs at the topic as if it personally offended them as well. Reaching up, she ran a single finger along the spine of the yellow one. It seemed to calm down as it relaxed under her minute gesture as Allura scratched at its head with a single finger. “Forgive me if I seem rather...uneasy around this topic, Lotor. But this isn’t something that either of us has brought up in our battles against each other. So forgive me for being impolite when I ask what your aim is behind asking me such a question?”

“I have no ulterior motives to it, Allura.” Sighing softly through his nose, Lotor debated whether even attempting to converse with her at this moment was even an acceptable usage of his time. “Everything I do is because I want to learn about the suffering and pain that the empire—my empire—has left upon planets, cultures, and entire races that we have oppressed and exploited for our own selfish and exploitative desires.”

Drawing in a single sharp breath, the tension in Allura’s brows never relaxed even in the slightest.  The distrust in her eyes was like a stagnant pool of water; it didn’t take an intellectual to see that Allura still distrusted Lotor. He doubted she would ever trust him, in her eyes he was the son of Zarkon. A dark mark that was already cast upon him the moment he came into the world. Even if some time passed and she came to give him some degree of trust, there would always be that little nagging voice in the back of her head that would remind her of who his parentage was and he felt like nothing he would do would ever dissuade that little nagging voice in the back of her mind.

There was a subtle shift in his facial expression. Slight enough that one wouldn’t notice it, but in his own mind Lotor was beginning to question whether taking Lance’s idea was even a good thing; how it might have been better to ignore his advice after all.

Allura raised a brow a singular brow however, as if she picked up the subtle change in Lotor’s behavior. She cocked her head to the side.

“Forgive me, for wasting your time, Allura, but maybe it’s best that we don’t have this conversation.” Lotor attempted to make his way to her bedroom door, in an effort to leave, but Allura called out to him to wait.

“Did Lance put you up to this?” That single question had Lotor turning on his heels to face her; her distrust of him was still apparent on her face, but there was another unreadable emotion just layered beneath it. “I don’t exactly know just what it was you did to him when you had him captive, but he—he doesn’t distrust you as much as the others do.”

“Why would it matter if he had a hand in why I chose to pay you a visit, unarmed and without a single weapon on my person?”

She looked taken aback by Lotor’s words. There was something cold and shriveling in her eyes, like a spider web of cracks that raced across the murky surface of the ice. You didn’t know what was beneath it, whether there was frigid water below your feet or a predator lying in wait. “Because he’s not the same. Not anymore.” There was a harsh edge to the whisper that left her lips as she glared at him.

“He’s hardly going to ever be the same. Lance changed the moment he was whisked away from the Earth and dragged into the midst of a war that my father may have started, but yours continued.”

Taking in a hissing breath, Allura quickly rose to her feet, causing the mice on her shoulders to squeak in annoyance before hopping off of her shoulders and down to the dresser below. With a single finger, she pointed it in Lotor’s direction. Her eyes narrowed as fury burned dangerously in them. “A war that my father continued!? My father was trying to put an end to Zarkon’s reign of terror before he was cruelly murdered.”

There it was. That same naive, idealistic side of Allura that nearly drove Lotor mad with frustration. She would never view her father as some man who was capable of terrible actions just as much as Zarkon or any other Galra was capable of committing good ones. To many Zarkon would always be seen as an oppressive, dictator, but Lotor knew many Galra who viewed Zarkon as a benevolent saint. His methods may not have been just, but they were necessary in their eyes to bring about a prosperous future for their race who had just lost their planet, eons of culture, and history with a single blast of energy. Lotor knew his mother’s notes as much as he knew his own memories. He could recall words written down in her diaries of times before Altea had aligned itself with other planets and planetary trade. A time when Altea had been what the Galra were now. A time when Altea had been militaristic, a time when planets had run red with blood all in the name of  _ peace _ that Altean leader’s had so heartily preached for. It drove him mad as the corner of his lip turned upward into a snarl. “Just because your father was king, Allura. Doesn’t mean that he wasn’t incapable of making decisions that even now you wouldn’t agree with; that even now paled in comparison to the worst things that you have seen the Galra capable of doing. Sometimes even the most righteous of kings wet their hands with blood and become monsters.”

“You have no right to besmirch my father’s name like that.” She hissed, her fingers curling inward to the palm of her hands, her entire body shaking as if she was ready to leap across the small distance that separated her from Lotor and strike him.

Eyes narrowing, he simply whispered back. “I have every right to criticize the late King Alfor, Allura. I lived and watched the tolls the action of your father had upon my people. You didn’t. You slept for 10,000 years in a cryopod; you were shielded, coddled away from the actions that your father committed—”

“Be quiet,” Allura whispered. Her eyes darkening until they resembled turbulent storm clouds.

“Face it, Allura,” Lotor continued, his voice rising slightly as he gestured at her. “You’re a naive, idealist. More afraid about confronting whatever atrocities her people may have committed during war—”

“Quiet.” There was a vulgarity in her tone that crept into the way she spoke to him. Never in a million years would she have allowed herself to speak to another without some decorum to her words. But it seemed that anger made her tongue looser and her words harsher.

“—more afraid of discovering that her father wasn’t some perfect saint that she built up inside of her mind—”

“Quiet!” Allura roared, her words bouncing off the walls of the room as Lotor clamped his lips shut. His eyes flickered over her slightly reddened face as he took in her anger, her fury, that swirled inside of her as he pictured a chess board in which he had wiped away all of her pieces and left a single solitary king upon the board that belonged to him.

Coran was stubborn and it took all that it had from Lotor to drag everything out of the old Altean before Coran spilled all of his emotional sorrows and fears into his lap. Lotor guessed that Allura would simply be the same way and now where he stood, facing a red-faced princess who looked more ready to punch him than spill the unshed tears that prickled at the corner of her eyes, he knew that he’d had pushed her right where he wanted her to be.

“You don’t know what I’m afraid of,” Allura whispered harshly.

Striding across the room, until he was standing mere inches away from her, Lotor peered down at her face and spoke so lowly that no other would be able to hear them, even if they craned their necks to try. “Then what are you afraid of? If not for the truth?”

Allura let out a guttural yell of frustration as she lashed out, with enough force that she could muster, she pushed Lotor away from her. “I’m afraid of forgetting who I am!” Lotor raised his brow at her words as her hands dropped to her sides, her shoulder slightly sagging at her sudden admission. “I’m afraid I’ve already forgotten things I held so dearly to my heart.” Reaching up, she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders slightly shaking as she pulled in halting breaths to try and steady her emotions. Moments seemed to pass before she pulled her hands away from her face. Her head was still bowed, allowing Lotor no glimpse of her features. “Do you know how painful it is to be one of the last only two Altean’s to exist? My home is gone. My people are gone. Years of Altean culture and history wiped away from the universe in a matter of moments. My parents—” she trailed off, the mention of her parents seemingly too overwhelming for her to talk about as she gave a small, sad shake of her head. “There are times I wake up at night. In a cold sweat, because I can no longer remember how my own mother smelt or how my father’s eyes would crinkle whenever he told me an old, sappy joke from his boyhood.” 

She lifted her head, allowing Lotor to see that something had shifted inside of her. Instead of staring at a princess, a warrior, who had experience battling on the front lines, forging alliances and treaties of peace. He felt that he was staring at a frightened, little girl, who was more used to hiding behind her mother’s skirts with a doll clutched tightly in her hand instead of a strong, wizened leader that Allura projected herself as. Without a single word, Allura made her way over to her dresser and took a seat on its bench. Her mice scuttled close to the crook of her elbow, bumping at her limb with their noses which caused a wonton smile to spread across her face as she turned slightly to scratch behind their ears as she attempted to placate them.

“You worry about him,” Lotor remained still where he stood. As he felt he understood the princess more now than he had mere moments ago. Images of his own generals flashing in his mind. “You worry about Coran. The Paladins. Your own memories and past. You worry about it all and yet—” he trailed off, letting the silence eat his words as Allura laughed bitterly at his ability to see through everything.

“I worry, so much,” the bitterness made her voice raw and scratchy. “I’ve prepared all my life to eventually ascend to the throne. To lead my people when my father became too old to do so. But I am nothing like him.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned her head to stare at Lotor as she said this. “I may not know everything he ever did during the war, but I’m not prepared to lead. I’m not prepared to lead anyone, not my fellow Paladins, not this Coalition. I don’t even think I was prepared to lead my own people. Instead, I feel like I’m just that scared little girl again; that scared, frightened, little girl who watched her father place her into a cryopod as Altea came under attack.” She drew in a shuddering breath as she reached up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “Everything felt so  _ different _ when I stepped out of that cryopod. To know that the entire universe changed with a single war, to know that there were people who had been hurt and abused by an entire race of people—”

“It was never an entire race,” Lotor cut her off, an annoyed edge apparent in his words.

“—I know,” Allura nodded. “But I think my hatred, my anger, my confusion, my own hubris led me to paint everyone the same with a single brush stroke. I knew that all Galra weren’t bad. I was raised amongst them, were friends with many of them, treated them like the siblings I never had. But that fear that I felt, to learn that the same people I had considered friends and family had readily turned their weapons against me and my people, it simply pushed all the good that I knew the Galra to be capable of. The good that I had witnessed myself to the back of my mind. So now, every single Galra that crosses my path, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of irrational fear everytime a Galra crosses my path. It’s a fear that I’m trying to overcome, but—” her gaze flickered to Lotor, a glimmer of an apologetic look burning in her eyes. “—I know I have a tendency to be naive; to be idealistic, but it’s all I know. I will admit that I felt uneasy around you—I still do—but fighting alongside you, Keith, and the Blade of Marmora has me recognizing that my volatile words and actions can truly leave the same wounds in others that I sought desperately to repair in myself.”

Lotor simply raised his brow at Allura’s admission that one of her own Paladins had Galra blood inside of him. He filed that information away for later use as Allura reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She chuckled wistfully as a forlorn smile tugged at the corner of her lip. “And Lance was trying to get me to see the good sides of you too.” Lifting her gaze, she stared straight at him as she spoke. There was a slight pause before her words as if she was fearful of even speaking them aloud, but did so anyway. “When Zarkon offered us that deal of trading you for Sam Holt, he was the only one to speak up on your behalf when all of us had already made up our minds.” There was that forlorn smile again, painted across her features. “And I suppose I no longer deserve even a single word from him, not after everything that happened with Zarkon.”

Observing her from head to toe, Lotor felt that he had a greater understanding of Allura now than he did mere moments ago. Then he had believed her to be a naive princess, who’d had the world handed to her, a silken cloth perpetually placed over her eyes that prevented her from realistically seeing a harsh, brutal world that Lotor had had to claw his way through—still had to claw his way through. Pain and terror had been his wet nurses from the moment he’d been born, but for Allura, it had been different. She grew up knowing love and affection when Lotor had been starved of it, so of course, their outlooks on life would be so wildly different. But it had only infuriated him to know that Allura, was nothing like he’d expected her to be. A sharp, wizened leader had been washed away and replaced with the image of a princess who was thrust into a role that was too big to be placed upon her shoulders. A princess who was prepared to lead her own people, not an entire Coalition.

He’d expected anger and fury to be like companions on his shoulder when it came to her. But instead, all he felt was pity and empathy. To now know that she felt like she didn’t deserve to be in Lance’s good graces. To have one of her trusted Paladins refrain from talking to her because her judgment was clouded by years of distrust and hate…

He nearly surprised himself with the reassuring words that fell from his lips. “He doesn’t feel the same way.” Allura’s eyes studied his face, her features slightly relaxing, but still equally puzzled. “Lance, that is.” He clarified. “He’s rightfully upset, but it would do the both of you no comfort to refrain from speaking to one another. You should seek him out, talk to him, and cast away whatever harsh feelings you have for one another. Even though Lance may not look like it, he’s a great listener, with the ability to be empathetic as well.”

A genuine smile graced her lips as she pressed a hand against the center of her chest and let out a warm chuckle that reminded Lotor of soft, tinkling bells. “I suppose that’s true.” She breathed in. “You know, Lance once called me the ‘ _ heart of Voltron _ ’ often times I can’t help but think that he was wrong. That instead of me being the heart that keeps this team together, that it isn’t him?” As quickly as the warm, jovial look flashed across her face it dissipated yet again. “But he’s changed. We all have. I think that’s what concerns me the most; the fact that Lance changed when he was held captive on your ship and refuses to talk about it. He never wants to talk about what he went through with Zorak—” Lotor winced, unable to help the unbidden memory that flashed in his mind of Lance’s punctured, bleeding skin as he peeled away his undersuit to expose the torture that Zorak had put him through. “—and I think that makes me more concerned than anything else.”

Surprise flickered across her face as Lotor crossed the few strides that separated them. Her mice eyed him warily, but for the most part, perched themselves behind her body as if it was a barricade that separated him from them. Reaching out, Lotor placed his hand upon Allura’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “When Lance is truly ready to tell his entire story, he’ll come to you. He’ll come to you all.”


	10. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's chapter holds a special place in my heart. Maybe it's because he hits home the point that Lotor is neither good nor bad? That he just easily doesn't do things for the benefits of others, but that he always has to get something out of the situation? Either way, I love this chapter and next week we finally get Lotor talking to our other half-Galra character.

The door to Allura’s room slid shut behind Lotor’s back, with a hiss that sounded like a person relieved to have the weight of their sin’s slipping off of their chest. He wasn’t exactly looking for the next person that came his way, but he found Lotor instead.

“Lotor.”

Turning on his heels at the sound of his own name, Lotor felt a measure of surprise flood his veins as Shiro made his way over to him. The Galra couldn’t help the flood of suspicion and uneasiness that flowed through his veins as his eyes flickered over Shiro warily, the Paladin slowly approaching him, with a gait that was loose and casual as if Shiro was greeting an old friend rather than someone who was a mere enemy to him only a few vargas before. There was a feeling he got from the man; a feeling that made Lotor on edge like the multiple times he’d found a person clinging to him to satisfy their own personal gains or that of the witch’s. Eyes flicking up and down the hall of the ship, Lotor tried to tamper down the sneaking suspicion that Shiro had been waiting for him to leave Allura’s room.

A sneaking suspicion that refused to sink beneath the surface. Instead, he raised a single, white brow, as a simple question left his lips. “Yes?”

That seemed to cause a flame to flicker in Shiro’s eyes—a flame of undiscernible emotions—that had Shiro crossing his arms in front of his chest and giving Lotor a comforting grin. “How are you finding the ship?”

“It’s adequate.” Was Lotor’s curt reply. There was a nagging, gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that warned him to place as little trust in Shiro as possible, despite the fact that the other Paladins seemingly trusted him enough that they’d put their lives on the line for him if there were ever a moment that called for it.

Nodding at Lotor’s words as if he’d been expecting Lotor to say so little, Shiro motioned to an adjacent hallway that Lotor hadn’t traveled down yet. “Well since you’re still getting used to the ship, why don’t I give you a tour?”

Lotor’s eyes narrowed at the offer—he knew the difference between an offer laced with honeyed words that were tailored to flatter him and a command that was wrapped up in an offer. None of the tension he carried his shoulders ebbed as he glumly nodded at Shiro. The two of them began to walk down the hall as Shiro pointed out where the training room was if Lotor simply walked a little further. The shared showers; the kitchen, Shiro pointed out the location of important facilities as he and Lotor continued to walk. Lotor found himself tuning the Paladin out as he already knew much of the layout of the ship as Lance had informed him of it at his own request. It was information that he concluded that Shiro didn’t need to know about.

There was a point where Shiro’s words came to a quiet lull of silence and Lotor lifted his gaze as a trepidatious tingle ran up the length of his spine to find Shiro’s dark eyes boring into him. It made all of his organs lurch as he slightly jerked his head back as if he’d been slapped in the face. There was a crawling sensation up his skin that he felt Shiro was observing him; analyzing him and it did him no favors but to help remind him of others who’d done the same thing to him from the moment he’d been born till who knew when.

“I know.” Those two words fell from Shiro’s lips, like a weapon ready to be wielded.

Keeping his face impassive, Lotor let his hands rest behind his back, his chin slightly lifting as he regarded Shiro out of the corner of his eyes. “What is it that you think you know?”

Shiro fell quiet yet again as the two of them continued to walk, there was light pouring out of one of the rooms they were coming up on. Loud laughter pouring out of the space like a song. There was nothing burning in Shiro’s eyes, nothing that Lotor could hope to glean or pull any sort of information from. Shiro came to a stop in front of the open doorway with Lotor following his suit. The two of them peered into the kitchen to see Hunk pulling a steaming tray from the oven as he murmured something to Lance who was perched on top of a counter, sneaking bites off a separate cooling tray of snacks while Hunk wasn’t looking.

Lance’s gaze swiveled to Lotor’s face in mid-chew, his eyes darting between him and Shiro, even as his brow furrowed and he lifted a single hand and gave the two of them a small wave. Tearing his gaze away from Lance, Lotor could feel a gaze burning itself into the side of his face.

“I know why you’re doing all of this.” Shiro motioned to the space around him with a roll of his wrist.

Lotor narrowed his eyes at him. There was a soothing smile that stretched across his face. “I don’t quite understand what you’re talking about, Paladin.”

Shiro let out a bitter chuckle in the back of his throat as he turned to face Lotor. In the kitchen, worry slipped across Lance’s face, but Shiro gave a single shake of his head, causing the worry on Lance’s face to deepen. “What you’re doing, talking to all of us. You’re not doing it for you.”

Taking offense to that, Lotor bristled, his claws lengthening from the swarm of emotions boiling inside of him. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” Lotor spat.

Shiro’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I think I do. You’re not talking to any of us for your own personal ambitions. You’re doing this for him.” Shiro glanced into the kitchen, Lotor following his gaze until his own eyes settled upon Lance’s worried face. There was a terse smile that slipped across his face, more to soothe Lance’s spirits than his own. Lance’s lips puckered out as he seemed to wrestle with a torrent of emotions inside of him, despite the worry sloughing off of his skin. Shiro’s voice dropped to no more than a whisper. “I don’t know what you’re intentions are with Lance, but I look out for him, just like I look out for the rest of my team. And right now, none of us can trust you fully. Not without ignoring the history between us or the fact that you had Lance as a hostage aboard your ship. Or the fact that you murdered one of your generals either.”

“You don’t know what happened on that ship,” Lotor growled, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. He didn’t care if any of them trusted him, nor did he care to question how Shiro even learned about him having slain Narti with his own two hands. His mouth was dry as the subtle realization bloomed in the back of his mind that in order to live Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid had probably disowned him and pledged their loyalty to the empire. Probably told whoever would listen about how he’d turn on Narti and they feared for their own lives that he’d do the same to them. Information like that would have traveled and spread, so it was of no surprise to him that the Paladins—especially Shiro, Allura, and Coran—would have had that information reach their ears. “Nor do you know what happened with my general, either.”

“I don’t.” Shiro nodded. “But that isn’t going to change until either you or Lance tell us what happened on that ship. Or—” Shiro’s gaze burned holes into Lotor’s skin. “—what the hell you’re planning on doing to Lance.” There was an unsaid threat layered beneath his words, one that had Lotor drawing himself up to his height as he bared his fangs at Shiro.

“Are you threatening me, Paladin?”

“Are you perceiving it as one?”

“Guys!” Shiro and Lotor turned their head to find Lance standing in the archway of the kitchen door. His brows were pinched together, his mouth flattened out into a worried line. His own gaze flickered between the two of them. “Is everything alright?”

There was a warm grin that stretched across Shiro’s features. “Everything’s fine Lance. Lotor and I are just having a chat.”

Lance turned his gaze to Lotor, a silent question burning in his eyes as if he was attempting to ask Lotor if that’s truly what was going on. He nodded tersely, his teeth sinking down onto the soft flesh of his cheek. “Yes, we’re just  _ talking _ .”

“We’re fine, Lance.” Shiro smiled at him, although Lance looked hesitant, he nodded at the two of them and retreated back into the interior of the kitchen as Hunk called out to him. “I suppose we should continue our tour.” Swiveling on his heels, Shiro took off with Lotor walking after him. Shiro led him down several halls before the two of them found themselves in the sitting area. The wide windows that spanned an entire wall showed several planets and stars that the ship was passing by. “I suppose that this ends our tour,” Shiro chuckled as he turned his gaze on Lotor. There was an unbidden tension in the air that caused Lotor’s suspicions of Shiro to deepen even further.

“Just what is it that you’re planning?” Lotor questioned, as Shiro walked toward the windows and peered out of them. He could feel Shiro watching him through the reflection of the glass.

Shiro ignored him, however, and instead elected to carry on the conversation as if Lotor hadn’t just asked him a question. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting to know me, like you did with Allura and Coran?”

Keeping silent, Lotor merely continued to stare at Shiro. The Paladin’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he recounted a story that he pulled from the depths of his memories. “I can almost see it like it was yesterday. The first time I stepped out into the arena.”

_ Even in the hall, as he stood in line with the other prisoners. A red forcefield separated them from the main portion of the arena, but even that couldn’t keep out the rapturous yells and screams of glee as the crowd chanted the name of the warrior one of them was bound to fight. _

_ “Myzax! Myzax!” _

_ In front of him, Shiro could see Matt’s shoulders trembling from fear as the other prisoners around them nervously shuffled around them, one or two of them bursting into tears as Shiro picked up that something was wrong. The forcefield disappeared as a guard stepped into the hall and pointed his weapon at Matt. Shiro sucked in a single breath as he didn’t even need to look at Matt’s face to see the surprise, shock, and fear that probably gripped it. Over the guard’s shoulder, Shiro saw the opponent that Matt would be facing. Myzax was a hulking figure at least several stories tall and with enough weight on him that he had to weigh more than a tank, in his right arm he wielded a wand with a purple, crackling orb of energy floating above it. There was dried and fresh blood smearing the dirt of the arena, some of it so fresh that Shiro could smell it from where he stood. _

_ Dread filled his stomach as he realized that Matt would be sent to his death if he walked out there. He had needed a plan, anything to get Matt out of the situation. His eyes focused on the weapon in the guard’s hand, his thought hadn’t even finished as he found his feet racing towards the guard, wrenching its weapon out of its hand. Even as Matt called out his name in concern and fear. He had let out a roar, as he spun around and with the weight of the weapon had sent the force of it smashing into Matt’s leg. He could hear rather than feel the crunch of Matt’s bone as he fell to the ground, cradling his leg as it throbbed in pain. _

_ The other aliens stepped away from Matt and Shiro, their fear of him outweighing any desire they had to help an injured Matt. Shiro stood there, his eyes wild and dancing in his skull as he let out another roar, raised his weapon, and brought it down on Matt’s leg. _

Snapping out of the memory, Shiro placed a hand on his metallic arm. The limb was shaking from the onslaught of memories that were swirling in his mind. His accompanying fight with Myzax was a blur in his mind, even as his body throbbed with the dull ache of wounds that had long healed themselves. Gripping his arm tightly, he breathed slowly as the shaking in his arm settled down. “I don’t suppose you know what the arenas are like. Everything was so foreign to me, so terrifying that my only concerns at the time where staying alive and making certain that the Holt’s made it back to Earth alive.” Shiro smiled forlornly, knowing that even though he had family back on Earth, he’d have been willing to give it all up just so that Pidge and her mom didn’t lose a brother and a husband.

“I know what the arenas are like,” Lotor replied coolly, his own gaze measured as he stared at Shiro.

There was a fury that swept over Shiro’s features. An animal that seemingly friendly, could bare its fangs at even the barest of hints of anger. “So you’re just like  _ them _ .” He growled.

Lotor knew who Shiro was referring to. The Galra elite, the elite of other races, the blood hungry. They were anyone who paid for a ticket to watch the entertainment that was being offered in the arena. Anyone who gladly cheered when a single person lost their life, their blood spilling over the dirt of the arena. And Shiro thought Lotor was like one of them. Any fights that occurred in the arena may have been for the pleasure of Zarkon’s evening entertainment, but Lotor was nothing like him. Eyes narrowing, Lotor’s blood threatened to boil inside of him. “Are you suggesting that I may be anything like my father?” His skin was burning, the faint scars that littered his arms from a lifetime spent fighting underneath blinding lights seemed to crawl and itch against his skin. “Because I am well aware what goes on within the arenas—”

Shiro’s lips parted as if he was ready to pick a fight with Lotor and pick him apart with no more than his teeth.

“—especially given the fact that I was never a spectator of them.”

There was something that burned in Shiro’s eyes. Pity, maybe, but Lotor didn’t want it. Instead, he averted his gaze from Shiro’s face as his skin felt hot and uncomfortable to him. Shiro’s lips pressed together. “I didn’t know that you, as Zarkon’s son—” He tried to offer after minutes of silence had passed.

“No one ever does.” Lotor spat bitterly, eager to be done with the conversation. Eager to stuff unwanted memories back into the darkness where he’d buried them.

Shiro nodded as if he had no words that he could offer in condolence. Instead, he continued to share his own story. “I don’t know how long I was there in that arena for. Fighting—murdering—as I desperately strove to stay at the top after defeating Myzax. Who knew what would have happened to me if the crowd suddenly grew bored of me. Would I be tossed aside like a pile of trash? Or would I be executed as another source of entertainment for them? At this point, I don’t know who I was staying alive for, but it definitely wasn’t for myself or the Holt’s—Sam had been transferred to a working camp when he got split up, and Matt, after I attacked him and broke his leg.”

_ The spotlights were blinding in Shiro’s eyes as he roared, his fist smashing down into the face of his competitor. Over and over and over, until blood was coating his bruised and skinned knuckles, speckles of it splashed across his jaw as he felt the body below him twitch before one final exhale fell from the alien’s lips and it was still. His chest was burning as he stared down at the bloody pulp of flesh below him, so mangled and destroyed beyond all recognition by his bare fists that he wasn’t even certain what his opponent had looked like in the first place. An announcer rushed to his side, gripped his wrist and held his arm up in the air as the crowd went wild. His own name assaulting his ears as he stared down numbly at another life he’d ended with his own two hands under the guise of a bloodthirsty sport. His eyes sweeping through the crowd of aliens clustered in the seats above him as they chanted his name, his eyes stopped as he felt a chill run up his spine. His gaze settling on a cloaked figure as she stared at him for what seemed like an excessive amount of time. Her eyes narrowed at him, as she turned and whispered into the ear of a hulking figure that Shiro had assumed had to be a king of some sort. _

“Really, was I fighting for myself? Or was I fighting just for the sake of it? When I thought that the Galra couldn’t take anything more from me that they already hadn’t taken, they decided to take something important from me…”

_ He’d been sleeping in his cell, the stench of blood and death still clinging to him when the door slid open, letting a stream of harsh light inside that caused him and his cellmates to stir awake. He couldn’t make out the illuminated shapes in his doorway as they stood there. _

_ “It isn’t time for another fight.” He’d called out as one of the figures had pointed in his direction. _

_ Two Galra guards had marched into the cell and up to him, each one gripping his arms even as he fought back. One of them had used the butt of their guns to whip him in the face, causing his neck to snap to the side as the acrid tang of blood oozed over his teeth and onto his tongue. Shocked, they’d grabbed him and drug him out even as he protested and screamed at them. Dragging him down halls and through passageways, he’d ended up in a room that had been awash in an eerie purple glow. There were jars of bright purple light that lined the entire expanse of the room. There was a metal slab in the middle with cloaked and masked figures standing around it. They garbled something in that strange tongue that he still couldn’t comprehend. Dragging him over to the slab, the guards strapped him down to it. His eyes darted along the room, his heart pounding inside of his chest as he saw charts and glowing screens with an alien script on them. His own face plastered floating on some of the screens, with little notes are written upon them. Many of which pointed back at an empty silhouette of a human body. One of the guards produced a black leather strip that they tied slightly just above his elbow. _

_ “What are you doing!?” He tried to wrench his arm out of its restraint. Even as in the corner of his vision, several cloaked figures similar to that woman appeared. Shiro spotted her, standing in the corner of the room. Her eyes narrowed as if she regarded him as some specimen that would be the key to whatever it was that these cloaked figures did. She spoke harshly to the figures, alien words falling from her tongue, with the only word that Shiro could comprehend causing his brows to pinch in confusion. _

**_Kuron._ **

_ He wondered what it meant even as above him, there was a whirring sound that forced him to tilt his head back to see that there was a spinning blade above his head being held by one of the cloaked figures. It reminded him of a saw, though the blade was smooth around the edges. “Wait,” Shiro whispered as a sense of dread flooded through his veins. “Wait,” the word fell from his lips again as the blade hovered closer to his arm and pressed against the surface of his skin. “Wait!” His shout fell on deaf ears as the blade pricked his skin, drawing beads of blood to the surface as his head fell back and a deafening scream ripped itself from his throat _ —

“—Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes were wild like a caged animal as the sound of his name ripped him from the grips of memories that he wished he’d forgotten. Letting out a shaky laugh, his tongue darted between dry lips as droplets of sweat rolled down from his temples. “I suppose the Galra took more than just an arm from me.” He attempted to joke, his own laugh sounding artificial to his own ears.

Lotor said nothing as his gaze flickered to Shiro’s arm. It reeked of a combination of the latest Galra technology and dabbles of whatever magic Haggar and her ilk practiced.

“They left me with a bunch of scars I’m never certain will heal. Scars that make me hate  everything that they did to me.” Glancing down at his prosthetic arm, Shiro frowned at it. “And something that will serve as a reminder to me until the day that I die.” Brows furrowing, Lotor wanted to question Shiro as to what he meant by that, but he had pushed himself away from the window, mumbling something about a headache that he was going to see if Hunk couldn’t whip up a home remedy for.

“Why aren’t you angrier?” Lotor finally asked him, just as Shiro was preparing to walk through the doors.

The Paladin paused, his lips pursed together, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m angry all the time. I’m angry at what the Galra took from me and what they did to me. I may have accepted what happened to me—” He glanced down at his mechanical arm, “—but I’ll never be able to truly accept it. I act the way I do because I don’t want anyone to treat me differently, especially not my own team. Getting angry gets things done, but that doesn’t mean it makes every situation better."

And with that, the doors behind Shiro slid shut, leaving Lotor behind to wrestle with his own feelings.


	11. Keith

Lotor thought the universe was playing a cruel joke upon him when the doors to the kitchen slid apart and instead of revealing Lance to him, who he’d seen mere moments earlier as he and Shiro had passed by the kitchen, he’d instead nearly collided into Keith who stood just behind the door.

Keith scowled at him as if he was excrement that he’d had the unfortunate pleasure of stepping in. “What do you want?” 

Refusing to stoop to the same level of animosity that Keith clearly held for him, his eyes scanned the room for any signs of Lance and came back thoroughly disappointed when he failed to spot the Paladin. He turned on his heels, intent on leaving and searching for Lance when Keith let out a disgruntled “hey” that had Lotor rolling his eyes and turning his head to stare at him.

“Are you ignoring me?” He scoffed incredulously.

“Do you feel like you’re being ignored? Because I rather having nothing of value to say to you as of right now.”

Tensing up as Keith reached out with lightning quick reflexes to wrap a hand around Lotor’s wrist, Keith drew himself up to his full height, which was still a few inches shorter than Lance. Lotor studied his face, just as he recollected the morsel of information that Allura had dumped into his lap earlier. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at here—” Keith began, his face burning with anger as his grip on Lotor’s wrist tightened.

“You’re Galra,” Lotor whispered, more to himself rather than to Keith who heard his words anyway.

“Not fully,” Keith mumbled, letting his grip on Lotor’s wrist slacken as he pulled his hand back to his side. 

But it was still enough for Lotor to recognize that Keith had Galra blood running through his veins. He never quite understood it himself, what set other half-Galra like himself apart from the rest or what drew him to find others like him. Maybe it was the way they held themselves like they had something to prove to a world that constantly reminded them they were different from others. Or maybe it was the innate desire that all half-Galra had inside of themselves, a desire to reach out and search for anyone in the universe that was unknowingly like them. It delighted him to know that he and Keith were alike in some way.

But Keith clearly didn’t it. “No.” The single word was sharp, with the edginess of a fatal bite that was meant to tear through flesh, sinew, and bone.

“No?” There was a curious fire illuminating Lotor’s eyes, his brow curving at the faintest hint of his own question.

“You—” Keith pointed a single finger at Lotor’s being, before letting his fingers splay apart as he pressed the palm of his hand against his chest. “—And I? We’re nothing alike.”

Sighing, Lotor crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No matter how much you want to deny it. You and I both carry the blood of the Galra race within our veins. Regardless of how miniscule it is. You and I are as much Galra as those that sired us.”

Keith was shaking his head at Lotor’s words, his voice rising with his frustrations. “I didn’t ask to be!”

“You may not have asked to be born with the blood you carry in your veins, but you were born with it and it does little help to you or anyone else for you to be denying your heritage. You should be proud to be Galra—”

“Why should I be proud to be associated with the likes of you or any of the other Galra out there who’ve hurt so many people?”

“And how does viewing many of the Galra citizens who have nothing to do with this petty war that Zarkon or King Alfor started as conspirators to a war in which they neither make orders nor are the ones on the front lines holding weapons any better than the intolerant speech that’s so rampant in the universe. Would it be wise for you to assume that members of the Blade of Marmora are as equally culpable for their actions as Sendak? Or even your own Galra parent as well?”

“That’s different!”

“But what makes it different? Is it because you’re able to see the allies on your side of the war? Because it’s easier for you to empathize and dignify them? Or is it easier because you’ve never been behind enemy lines? Never had to see nor speak with the average Galra citizens who are so ignorant of the going on's of the war that it’s much easier to vilify an entire race and pull the trigger against them?”

Lotor could see Keith’s chess piece falling over as he shut his eyes, ball up his fists, and take a deep sigh. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t care if you do. I’m just imploring you to not vilify every Galra that exists in the universe; that your blood isn’t something that you should fear or be ashamed of; that long before this war and even now, there was pride in being a Galra, pride for our culture and our history, and just because of the actions of a few being Galra isn’t something you should be ashamed of.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed at Lotor. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand anything you do. Why be so nice to all of us now when just moments before you were trying to capture all of us and our Lions to bring back to your father?”

Lotor gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “Merely a means for me to curry favor with Zarkon.”

Keith’s eyes only narrowed at that. “Why would you even want his approval when you make no attempt at disguising how much you hate him?”

Eyes darkening, Lotor merely stared at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Keith rolled his eyes at that. “Yea I don’t understand what it’s like to hate a parent. After all, I’m merely an orphan boy, who lost his dad as a kid and never knew his mom. I never once resented my own parents for leaving me alone in this world without so much as an explanation as to who I was.”

The darkness in Lotor’s eyes melted at Keith’s words. It was just a glimmer, but Keith’s eyes slightly widened at what he saw—a raw pain inside of Lotor that came and went with a quickness that had Keith blinking just to discern if what he was had even been real. “Forgive me for asking, but how did your father die?”

Lips parting, Keith stilled as the words refused to fall from his tongue. The memory still felt clear as day in his mind, but it was something he never liked to dwell on.

_ He could smell smoke and burnt wood tinging the air as he raced through the crowds of people and firefighters attempting to put out the raging fire like a cluster of rats. Heart pounding in his throat, his tiny legs burned as he raced toward the building. _

_ “Dad!” _

_ His eyes widened at the sight of the building as it came into his view. Black smoke billowed out of the windows as shards of glass imploded and fell down to the street below. Firefighters shouting orders as a young woman appeared in a blown out window _ . _ Hair billowing behind her head like a renaissance painting, soot-smudged across her cheeks, she looked to be no older than a college student as the firefighters below urged her not to jump; that help was on the way. The crowd below let out a collective gasp of fright as the young woman jumped from the window below to a bunch of firefighters that were quickly assembling a thick blanket together to soften the blow of her fall. But Keith wasn’t focused on that or any other point of the chaotic scene around him. No, he was focused on one thing only as he attempted to race toward the burning building. His little legs were burning from the strain as he could feel the heat of the flames radiating off of his skin; feel the burn of the smoke as it poured into his lungs; the warmth of another as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his midsection, sweeping him up into the air as soothing, entreating words from an elderly firefighter who worked at the same company as his dad pulled him away from the burning building. _

_ There were honey-coated words being whispered in his ear; how his dad was a hero who would come out safe, despite the tears rolling down Keith’s cheeks like droplets of rain. _

_ None of that mattered when just a few days later, he found himself standing over the closed casket that housed his father. His tombstone already erected even as they began to lower the coffin into the ground. He felt angry, confused, and sad as he stared at the words emblazoned on it as if they were a taunt directly to him. Husband. Father. Hero. Those 3 words pierced through Keith’s heart like tiny daggers. His father was dead. His personal hero gone. He chuckled wryly to himself as he realized he didn’t even know where his mother was. All his father had ever told him and anyone who had dared to ask was, “She’s out doing really important work in another place. She’ll be back someday.” _

_ She’d be back…. _

_ His tears mingled in with the pouring rain. She wasn’t here. The only thing he had to remember her by was the knife his father had given him that had belonged to her. His mother wasn’t here and now Keith was all alone in the world. He felt a hand upon his shoulder as his Social Services worker came up behind him to let him know that it was time for him to leave. As they left, Keith took one final glance at the open hole in the ground in which his father lay, the tombstone, the dreary cemetery. All of it, before turning his back against fresh, painful memories that would never match the ones in his heart. _

Lotor was silent as Keith’s tale came to an end. His mouth twisting in a grim line of contemplation. No Galra parent would ever just abandon their child so willingly, to the Galra, their own children’s lives were more precious than anything else in the universe. They’d be willing to destroy planets, entire universes, even give up their own lives if it meant saving that of their offspring. But he simply pushed that thought in the back of his head and instead focused on the fact that Keith grew up alone, without knowing anything about his Galra heritage or the parent who sired him, without knowing the great parts of Galra culture that Lotor deeply appreciated, their history and everything he held dear to him that vastly outweighed whatever bad the Galra had done in the eyes of the Paladins—and Lotor would admit there were many of those. He felt there was nothing he could say to Keith, nothing that would ease a lifetime of pain, so instead he found himself reaching out. His hand resting against Keith’s shoulder. The Paladin glanced at his hand, fixed his gaze on Lotor, and raised a single brow at him as if he was giving Lotor merely a second to explain himself or Lotor would find himself stuffed into an airlock.

“I can...understand how you feel. It’s no secret that Zarkon and I don’t have a relationship nor the fact that I was banished from the empire for an extended length of time. But if you wish to ever talk about Galra culture...I will be here.”

Keith simply stared at him, his mouth fixed into a thin line as he seemed to contemplate the offer, before giving Lotor a solitary nod. “That would be...nice.”

Lotor simply nodded and turned away, uncertain of where his feet were going to carry him in his search for Lance.

“Hey.” The single word had Lotor turning around to face Keith. “If you’re looking for Lance...last I saw of him, he was going to the observation deck.” Looking slightly abashed at the words that had just come out of his mouth, Keith avoided Lotor’s gaze.

It caused a lopsided smile to stretch across Lotor’s features. “Thanks.” Mumbling something in response, Keith turned on his heels and retreated back into the kitchen as Lotor set off in the direction of the room that Keith had pointed him in.


	12. Pidge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter because I felt Pidge didn't have much to contribute in terms of bonding with Lotor. She's one of the few members who is extremely close to Lance and would have been most affected by his kidnapping, so she's going to take a lot longer than the other members to come around to Lotor.
> 
> Also, most of you must have noticed that I set a chapter limit on this fic. This fic is going to be 22 chapters long and since I'm a few chapters ahead in terms of writing and have everything up to the end of this fic planned and outlined (including a potential epilogue), how would you guys feel if I set up an update schedule for this fic? Maybe keep it to every Saturday as an update day?

The universe truly had a vendetta against him. It was the only thought that flashed into his mind as Lotor stepped into the observation deck, a blur of mapped out star systems and planets floating around his head as he watched entranced as a large, purple planet floated past his face. As he took another step forward, a high pitched growl of annoyance rang in his ears.

“Hey! Watch where your giant feet are going next time!”

Glancing down, he noticed that with just another step, he would have trampled on a pair of bare legs that following towards its owner turned out to belong to Pidge. There was a deep frown on her face as her fingers rested against a data pad that she’d clearly been working on.

“Why are you here? And your answer better not include Lance’s name in it.”

Raising a brow, Lotor sized up the Paladin. The large glasses that rested upon the edge of her nose, did little to subdue the inquisitive glimmer that seemed to incessantly burn in her eyes. It almost reminded Lotor of himself, as if he was staring at a youthful portrait of whom he once was. Before layers of bitter emotions and harsh reality had piled upon that youthful glow. He suspected that whatever happened aboard the ship, the Paladin had means of hearing about it far more quickly than anyone else. So it was of no surprise to him that she would know that he was searching for Lance.

“I’m looking for Lance.” Pidge made a face that was a cross between disgust and contempt.

“Really? And why’s that? Are you making plans to kidnap him again?”

Unable to help the twitch in the corner of his lips, he let his face fall back into a smooth, expressionless mask as he looked down his nose at Pidge. “I always knew you were the brightest among the other Paladins, but I suppose I should get rid of you now that you know my plans.”

Shock flashed across Pidge’s face as her eyes scanned around the room in search of something that she could use as a weapon to fend him off, so she could have enough time to slip her hand into her pocket and reach for her communicator. Almost comically, Pidge’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head as she watched out of the corner of her eyes as Lotor held a hand over his mouth as he let out a deep chuckle. Her face went from shocked to furious as quickly as a river rising till it began to spill over the edge of an embankment.

“Was that supposed to be a joke!?”

He stared at her curiously, quite not understanding her harsh and rather upset reaction over what he deemed as a joke. Especially since he’d grown rather comfortable with Lance’s brand of snark and tongue quick quips. “Yes. It was a joke, humans do make jokes frequently do they not?”

“They do,” Pidge replied sharply, “but not at the expense of showing off how much of an asshole they are.”

Bristling at her words, Lotor watched her as she gathered her things and stood up to leave. “And you know what, you’re an asshole. No matter how much you go around, corner us individually, and try to play psychiatrist with us. You’re not going to change my mind.” She huffed as she stomped towards the doors leading out of the observation deck, they slid apart, revealing Lance standing on the other side. Even as Pidge stormed past him, leaving him to scrunch up his face in confusion as he watched one of his closest teammates that he regarded like the little sister he never had stormed off down the hall that lead to her room.

His confusion was tossed aside by a cold, simmering anger as he whirled his attention on Lotor. Pointing a single, accusatory finger at him. “What did you do?”

Scoffing  incredulously , Lotor gave a soft shake of his head, locks of his hair brushing against his back. “What did I do? I’m simply trying to connect with the rest of your teammates like you told me to. Trying to understand how the Galra empire hurt them all. How am I supposed to understand her when she seemingly has more hatred for me than Keith did?”

A flicker of surprise danced in Lance’s eyes at Lotor’s remark about Keith, but that was another topic for him to pry about later. “Did you say anything to her? That would set her off like that? She doesn’t just get that mad for no reason.”

Not quite understanding where Lance was going with this. “Besides making a joke about her discovering my plans to kidnap you again, I don’t see how anything could upset her--”

Cutting him off with a weary groan, Lance pinched at the bridge of his nose before hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “Go apologize to her. Pidge is the closest thing on the ship I have to a little sister, so how do you think she’s going to take it when you make a joke about kidnapping me after I just spent a bunch of time on a ship as a hostage and she’s had her own family get kidnapped by the Galra. How did you think she was going to take that joke?” Shaking his head again, Lance let his hand drop to his side before he had a dismissive gesture in Lotor’s direction. “I get that you’re trying to connect with everyone on the ship, but Pidge has been through a lot. We all have. And because of that, we’re going to take what you do in different ways; take what you say in different ways. So right now, the best thing you can do is go talk to Pidge, apologize, and listen to whatever she has to say  _ if  _ she decides to talk to you after.”

There was a grim line that tugged at the edges of Lotor’s lips. “We need to talk.”

“Whatever you need to say to me can wait until after you deliver your apology to Pidge.”

Sighing, Lotor crossed his arms in front of his chest as if apologizing to Pidge was a highly dangerous quest above Lotor’s class level that Lance had just sent him on. It caused Lance to break out in a lopsided grin as he realized that Lotor truly was  _ trying _ . “I’ll be in the kitchen later if you need to come and find me.”

Giving him a small nod, Lotor watched as Lance left and the doors to the observation deck slid shut. There was a growl of frustration that rumbled lowly in his throat over this whole complex affair. He wondered if he'd been brought up differently, raised with a loving family similar to Lance's own if this whole torrid affair wouldn't seem like an insurmountable obstacle to him. He supposed it wouldn't do well to dwell on the “what if's” of his own life, but decided that it was better to let the wound bleed rather than fester. 

Making his way out of the observation deck, he made his way down the hall that he'd seen Pidge walk down and traced his steps until he found himself standing in front of her room door. Raising a fist, he knocked once, twice, before Pidge's voice came muffled through the door. “Go away, Lotor. I'm not talking to you. Even if Lance sent you to apologize.”

“I’m here on my own cognizance,” Lotor explained. “Though Lance did also tell me that it would be in both of our best interests that I come to you and apologize.”

Silence fell between them as Lotor lingered outside her door. Minutes seemed to pass as Lotor stood there, presuming that Pidge had nothing to say to him nor any desire to speak to him, he turned with the knowledge that forging a bridge between him and the youngest of the Paladins was nothing more than a wild dream that he’d tried to bring into reality. As he took a step away from her door, he heard the door hiss apart and turned his head to see Pidge standing in the doorway of her room. Her face was pinched, her mouth set into a firm line, and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I’m listening.” She grumbled.

Turning on his feet to face her, he relaxed his posture slightly to at least indicate that he wasn’t a threat to her. Something that Pidge’s sharp nature observed as he did so. “I’m sorry.”

Her face remained unreadable, even as she remained in her doorway, leaving him bristling as he waited for her to either accept his apology or deny it. She hummed contemplatively, as she idly lifted a hand to tap the tip of an index finger against her chin. “I’ll accept it...on the condition that you teach me everything you know about Galra tech.” 

Raising his brow in surprise, Lotor could do little more than to articulate the single word that flashed across his mind. “What?”

“You.” Pidge pulled her index finger away from her chin and pointed it at Lotor’s chest. “Teach me.” She pointed her finger at herself. “About Galra tech and I’ll accept your apology.”

There was a huff of surprise from Lotor. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

Shrugging her shoulders, her face melted into a smirk. “I don’t know. You tell me?”

He scoffed. “I’m actually impressed that you thought to bribe me.”

“I get what you and Lance are trying to do. I get it. But it’s going to take me a lot longer than the rest of my team to at least begin liking you. Face it, my track record with the Galra Empire is already in the negatives after having my dad, brother and then Lance kidnapped from me by your empire. So sorry if I don’t warm up to you unlike the rest of my team. Instead--” She pointed at his chest once more. “--You actually work for it.” 

That pulled a laugh from Lotor, a genuine laugh that was more of a surprise for Pidge than it was for him. “Fine. I’ll take you up on your bribe then.”

“Shake on it then.” Sticking out one of her hands, she waited for him to grasp it, wiggling her fingers impatiently at him. Reaching out Lotor grasped her smaller hand in his, nearly crushing her hand under his larger one. 

“I suppose this is a deal?” Her brows were raised, her gaze flickering up toward his face.

“It’s a deal.”

Her eyes seemed to narrow further as she studied him. “By the way, Lotor. You better not hurt Lance. Ever. Again.”

There was an intensity behind Pidge’s words that had Lotor surprised. She sounded far more wise beyond her years than she should be and held an energy of ruthlessness to her that had his thoughts turning toward Axca.

“Good.” Pidge hummed as she pulled her hand out from Lotor’s grasp. “Because if you so much as hurt Lance in any way. I will personally invent a subatomic disintegrator so I have the pleasure of watching every single bit of your atoms dispersing into nothingness.”

Unfazed by the threat, he simply cocked a brow at her and retorted. “No threats for me in regards to the other Paladins? Coran, even?”

Pidge merely smirked at him. “They don’t need it.” With that she turned on her feet and headed inside of her room before the door to her room hissed shut, she remarked behind her back. “Don’t forget our deal.”

Letting out a small chuckle of approval, Lotor doubted that he hardly would. That or he was certain that he would find himself awakening to some form of a message from Pidge that reminded him of their shared deal. Chuckling as he walked away from her door, Lotor made a mental note to inform Lance of their rather intriguing conversation and the threat looming over his head courtesy of the youngest Paladin. 

It seemed he’d been underestimating them all. 

The Paladins proved to be far more interesting than he’d ever realized.


	13. Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually, I feel pretty certain of what I write for each and every chapter, but this one...this one stumped me. As much as I know this is a highly contested issue within the fandom, I personally don't feel there's enough characterization of Hunk or even onscreen moments for me to infer or even headcanon how Hunk would be affected by anything the Galra do or have done. Either way, I can say that I attempted and tried. Next Saturday we finally get an update for a chapter I'm sure you're all going to be ecstatic for since we have one final Paladin to go...Lance! The chapter is pretty touching in terms of feels and more character development for Lotor. And then after that everything gets pretty gay for a very good while, since uh...some stuff happens.

Entering the kitchen, Lotor expected Lance to be there but instead found Hunk standing behind a counter. Several open containers of steaming food lined up beside one another as the Paladin was busily shoveling clumps of a puffy, cloud-like food object into the container he was currently holding. Aromatic smells wafted over from the container that reminded Lotor of a distant stay he had on a planet, in which they produced a stunning dish of crispy, sauteed vegetables native to the planet. 

“Oh! Lotor!” Hunk lifted his head, his body jerking in surprise to see Lotor standing in the kitchen. No one else was there, of course, seemingly the dim lights lining the halls of the castle ship simulated a nighttime environment and from the containers of food on the counter, Lotor surmised that Hunk was putting up what remained of the dinner that the Paladins hadn’t eaten. So it was no surprise to him that everyone wouldn’t be in their respective rooms as of now, retiring for the night.

Quickly moving to place down the container and the wooden spoon he’d been using to scoop the remnants of the meal in the container, it was a raised hand from Lotor that caused Hunk to stop in mid-action. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Shoulder’s slumping as he released an audible sigh of relief. Hunk’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. He made gestures toward the container in front of him. “I’m just putting up some leftovers from dinner. Do you want any? Not that I’m assuming that you haven’t had a meal today or anything...but there’s no harm in asking.”

Giving him a small shake of his head, Lotor replied. “I’m fine. I’m rather accustomed now to having a rather odd time for meals, especially when I’ve spent more portions of my life escaping pursuers.”

Looking rather alarmed at his words, Hunk did nothing more than blink in shock, nod, and make a sweeping gesture at the food yet again. “Well, if you ever find yourself hungry at some point of the night. I keep all leftover food and snacks in the fridge.” Hunk pointed to the large, silver contraption behind him. “So feel free to help yourself to them. I’m sure no one would mind.” Hunk trailed off, leaving the unsaid portion of his sentence hanging in the air about Lotor being more than slightly hesitant to share a meal with all of the Paladins at once.

Hunk chuckled uncomfortably as he resumed refilling the container he’d just set down. “So I suppose I’m the last one you have to talk to?”

“No. There’s you of course, but Lance is left.”

The wooden spoon slipt from Hunk’s grip, clattering against the stove, it bounced off and fell to the floor. Hunk’s brows were pinched together. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Especially after everything that Lance has been through? Are you certain dragging him through every single one of his most painful memories is a good thing for him now?” There was a bitter chuckle that tumbled past Hunk’s lips. His gaze flickering to the wooden spoon that lay against the floor like a puppet that had its strings cut. “Are you sure Lance is even going to open up to you?” His gaze lifted from the floor to Lotor’s face, where something weary and slightly hopeless danced in the smoldering fire of his gaze. “Since he came back...he hasn’t even opened up to us about anything that happened to him. He’s not the same Lance that we all knew before. He’s not his happy, go-lucky self, he doesn’t like close contact like he used to unless he’s the one to initiate it.” He shook his head, his mouth settling into a glum line. “Whatever happened to Lance aboard that ship it broke him and put him back together as something else.”

“That’s what war does,” Lotor answered softly, knowing all too well the litany of old scars that his body sported that were a testament of his own complicated history. “It breaks you apart and puts you back together as something different.”

“Well, I don’t know if I like it,” Hunk muttered bitterly as he bent down to scoop up the wooden spoon. “It just—” Hunk began before shaking his head with a defeated sigh, letting his unfinished sentence die in the hollow interior of his throat.

“If Lance won’t talk to any of you, he’ll surely talk to me.”

“What makes you so sure about that?” Hunk questioned, his lips pursed pensively.

“Lance and I...have been through similar experiences.”

The look of alarm on Hunk’s face was enough to make anyone else besides Lotor feel guilty about holding back what Lance had truly experienced with Zorak aboard Lotor’s ship. “He told us before...well rather yelled it, that he’d been tortured before; showed us some of his scars too, but….do I—do I even want to know?” Hunk’s words were no more than a mere whisper.

It earned him a shake from Lotor’s head. “Not until Lance feels ready, or ever feels ready to tell you all what happened. It has to be on his terms. If you force him—” Lotor didn’t need to say the rest of his warning as Hunk nodded in understanding despite it.

“I just—I just want to be there for Lance; he’s like a brother to me and when he was taken away from us. It was like a part of myself got ripped away. I want to be there for him when he needs it just like how I was for Shay.”

Lotor raised a brow at the unfamiliar name, which caused Hunk to crack a lopsided smile and apologize. “Sorry, Shay’s a native of Balmera.”

Lotor nodded. “A former slave colony if my memory serves me correct.”

“Yea,” Hunk nodded. “We went there a while back and liberated Shay and her people. It was tough for them, it still is. Shay and I talk sometimes when we can through our communication devices. She went through a lot.” Brows pinching together, Hunk shook his head. “I just don’t get it. Why do innocent people like Shay...like Lance, have to suffer so much because of this war? Can’t the Galra just...get what they want by coexisting with others?”

Lotor smiled bitterly at Hunk’s train of thought. “Once upon a time; when Allura’s father was still alive that may have been a possibility, or we still could have ended up with a centuries-long war.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The lives of innocents are merely an unfortunate byproduct of a war started by greed and hubris. There are some Galra who will never know the horrors of what truly transgressed due to the war, some who live in comfort and ignorance while millions die in some distant outpost planet they never heard of.”

Drawing in a single breath through clenched teeth, Hunk shook his head. “That’s horrible.”

“It is. But it’s the realities of war.”

Shaking his head again. Hunk pursed his lips. “This all feels so foreign to me. Growing up my mom always instilled in me the important core values of our culture—” Hunk lifted a hand, curling back a finger with each topic that he listed. “Honor, respect, and family. We were always taught that peace has to come before violence; that there’s always a peaceful solution to everything and that violence is a last resort.” Hunk let out a defeated sigh as his hand dropped to his side. The corner of his lip twitching into a tired smirk. “I really should have rethought my career choice. I thought going into the Garrison, it would lead me to some peacekeeping work where I could actually forge bridges between people, make alliances, and change the world. But here? Here, I never thought I’d be dragged into a war where’d I actually have to fight. How can I change the universe and make it peaceful when all we’re doing is just fighting the other side while everyone around is suffering and dying?”

“Hunk,” Lotor called the Paladin’s name firmly, forcing the Paladin out of his own spiraling thoughts as he lifted his head. “Didn’t you just say that you liberated Balmera from the Empire?”

He nodded.

“If you liberated Balmera, surely you’ve liberated other planets as well. Just because you feel like your efforts are in vain doesn’t mean they are. It isn’t too late to promote nor forge peace in a war that never seems like it will ever end—and it will—you mustn't ever lose hope. For the moment you lose hope in a war, is the moment the war is lost itself.”

Humming, Hunk looked a little relieved at Lotor’s words. “You know...that was actually what I kind of needed to hear. Thanks.”

The somewhat blissful moment fell into a comfortable lull of silence as Hunk tossed the wooden spoon into a sink, retrieved a new one and proceeded to begin filling up the rest of the containers he had set aside with various leftover food items. The various smells wafting toward Lotor’s nose. He had walked close to the counter, leaned against it, his elbow resting against the chrome counter as he rested his cheek against the palm of his hand. Hunk’s warm, friendly spirit enveloped him into something that Lotor had nearly forgotten while being on the run. The warm, closeness that he had with his generals that usually thinking of would result in a lump forming in the hollow of his throat.

Instead, he felt at peace at having to not dwell on such painful memories. The silence between them was broken by the audible rumbling of Lotor’s stomach and Hunk’s intoxicating laughter. “So, how about that dinner, huh?”


	14. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still technically Saturday somewhere in the world, right? I bring everyone the Lance chapter which completes our series of character-focused chapters. From here on out ladies, gents, and nonbinary pals, strap into your seat and make sure to tie your shoelaces before you get on the ride because the gay feels, angst, and sexy times are coming up from here on out.

The hem of his robe brushed against his ankles as he trudged through the dim halls of the castle ship. His shoulders were slumped with the weight of exhaustion upon them as Lance attempted to blink the few hours of sleep that he had gotten from his eyes. The events of the past week hung wearily on his shoulders, combined with the lack of sleep that he was now becoming accustomed to not getting. Underneath his royal blue robe, he was dressed in a blue cotton t-shirt with a pair of blue pajama pants that had a pattern of white cartoonish lion heads printed on them. At the early hours of the morning with nothing to do but toss around fruitlessly in his bed, and refusing to be left in the darkness of his room with little more than his own thoughts to keep him company, he decided to make the short trek to the kitchen and rifle through the container of treats that he knew Hunk always kept in the back of the fridge.

As he stepped into the kitchen, a pair of glowing eyes boring through the darkness of the room startled him, causing him to jump back and let out a scream as he quickly slapped his hand against the wall next to him and fumbled for the pad that would initiate the lights. His fingers brushed against it causing the room to become awash in the bright, white glow of the overhead lights above, revealing to Lance that he wasn’t the only figure in the room.

Lotor was leaning against the kitchen counter, open containers of food that Hunk had made for dinner in front of him. He gesticulated wildly at Lotor. “Why are you in the dark? More importantly, why were your eyes glowing?”

Setting his fork down into the contents of one of the containers, there was a bemused expression on Lotor’s face as he turned to address Lance. “Our eyes are different from yours.” He remarked, collectively referring to the Galra as a whole. “We’ve adapted to see in the dark from a time when very little light was able to reach our home planet. So forgive me for causing your rather...humorous reaction.”

“Oh my god,” Lance huffed, pressing the flat of his hand against his chest. “Next time please turn on a light or something. I nearly had a heart attack. Wait—” his brows bunched together. “Please don’t tell me Keith can do that freaky, eye glowing thing too?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the bemused expression on Lotor’s face only seemed to grow brighter. “There’s a possibility, given Keith’s Galra heritage.”

“Oh my god,” Lance mumbled again as he pressed his hand a little harder against his chest. “I’m going to die because the two of you have freaky, glowing eyes.”

“Only when it’s dark.” Lotor corrected, which earned him an eye roll from Lance.

“More importantly,” Lance motioned to the kitchen. “Why are you here, this late at night besides clearly enjoying Hunk’s leftovers from dinner?” Lance motioned toward the containers resting on the counter.

“You’re the last one left.”

Lance frowned at Lotor’s cryptic words, standing there silently as Lotor continued to look at him. Realization hit him like a blast to the chest.

“No,” Lance shook his head sternly, “there’s nothing we  _ need _ or  _ have _ to talk about.”

It was Lotor’s turn to frown, or rather the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled as he sensed the underlying tremor of fear in Lance’s words. “Are you afraid, Lance?”

Eyes darkening, his mouth slightly twitching at a corner, Lance spat out, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then talk to me.” The plea and sincerity in Lotor’s words was enough to make Lance more agitated than soothed.

Giving a firm shake of his head, Lance spun on his heels preparing to leave the kitchen. “I’m not doing this, Lotor. Not now. Not ever.”

“Lance.” Lotor twisted his name into a sound of protest as he took a step forward; crossing the room in as few strides as possible given the length of his legs. Reaching out, the tips of his fingers barely brushed against Lance’s neck as he tried to prevent the Paladin from leaving. It was a foolish move really, especially when he knew that he and Lance were merely the same sides of a coin. Especially in regards to their burgeoning shared history of trauma. Something between them snapped, Lotor’s eyes widened as Lance spun around, his hands wrapping around Lotor’s outstretched wrist as he sent Lotor arching through the air with a surge of adrenaline that otherwise would have made Lance unable to support moving Lotor’s larger frame in any capacity. With an audible crash, Lotor’s back collided with the hard metal of the floor. 

He was grateful that he was still donning his armor as it absorbed most of the impact, only leaving him a little winded as he uprighted himself and swiveled his torso to take in Lance’s shaking form.

“Lance?” His name fell from Lotor’s lips like a lost love calling out through a parting crowd that for a few brief moments reveals the lover’s long-lost sweetheart, only for the crowd to whisk them back into a sea of people to be lost once more. “Lance?” Lotor called out his name once more as he took in the foggy glaze that swirled over Lance’s eyes, the trembling of his limbs, the way his lips lost their pallor and were a pallid gray. He peered into Lance’s eyes but could see nothing there.

Light didn’t exist in them and if anything they looked distant and far away as if Lance wasn’t even mentally on the castle ship, but somewhere else instead. It didn’t take a scholar for Lotor to know what other place, what other memories had to be strangling themselves in Lance’s mind. “Lance,” Lotor called his name once more. The words falling softly from his lips with such a soft, reverence to them that Lance hardly noticed it. Lance was shaking, beads of sweat rising to the surface of his skin as he shook his head. 

“I—I should go.” Lance’s words came out rushed as he sped past Lotor and out into the hallway. 

Quickly jumping up to his feet, Lotor chased after him. Catching up with Lance just a few doors away from the kitchen, he called out Lance’s name again. Lance slowed down at the sound of his own name, his shoulders slumped as he turned to face Lotor with a weariness on his face that made him look far older than his years. “You’re not okay.” 

There was a dark look that washed over Lance’s face at Lotor’s words. “I hear that enough from my friends. I don’t need to hear that from you.” He turned away from Lotor, clearly done with a conversation they had yet to have. But a firm grip on his shoulder kept him in place. His eyes flickered to the gloved hand gripping his shoulder, traveling up the length of the arm before his eyes settled on Lotor’s face.

“I may not be your friend Lance, but I understand you far more than they do right now.”

Lance snorted. Derision as plain as day on his face, but Lotor could tell it was there as a barrier, a defense mechanism, and a means to lash out so that Lance wouldn’t have to confront the issue at hand. “That’s pretty funny considering I  _ don’t know you _ .”

There was something that just caused Lotor to look at Lance, with a solicitous look upon his face. “I know more about you than they do. Just like you know more about me than anyone else.”

Lance’s mind was racked with flashing images of Lotor crying in his cell aboard that ship. Of someone with centuries of scars branded into their soul, that it made Lance surprised that Lotor was the way he was when he could have easily been so much...worse. But Lance didn’t want help. He didn’t want to talk about his problems. Didn’t want to talk about his emotions. He wanted to ignore them and hope that somewhere down the road, ignoring them would help him forget it all.

Forget the night terrors. The nights he would go without sleep. The nights he woke up covered in sweat as bile burned the back of his throat as he looked around his room in the darkness, half expecting Zorak to be looming over him with a sadistic grin stretched across that bastard’s face.

He just wanted to forget it all. But here was Lotor, wanting to drag all his problems back out into the light, even if it meant they were dragged out kicking and screaming.

But right now, he just wanted Lotor to hurt as much as he did. “Is that what you told your general before she died?”

There was something dark that flashed in Lotor’s eyes that had Lance worried for a second that he had broken open an emotionally scarring door for Lotor in his desire to make him hurt as much as he was hurting.

Instead, Lotor whispered something that Lance couldn’t catch. “What?” Lance’s lips puckered together as Lotor repeated what he had just said, but Lance still couldn’t hear him. “What did you say?”

“Her name was Narti,” Lotor growled, his fangs glinting underneath the dim lights, his grip on Lance’s shoulder tightened to the point that Lance’s knees buckled underneath the weight. “And as far as I’m concerned you don’t have any right to speak about her.”

Lance’s mouth flew open, a storm of arguments and painful insults burgeoning on his lips to lash out and flay at Lotor’s skin. But his grip merely tightened even further, enough that it had Lance wincing in pain from the force of it, but Lotor didn’t relent. Instead, he peered down at Lance like a school teacher would do to a child they were about to scold. “I understand you’re hurting, but trying to lash out, emotionally, at me will get you nowhere. You’re in pain and it may seem like no one else understands you, but I do.” The corner of Lotor’s lip twitched as he tilted his chin to stare in Lance’s eyes. “And you can’t just keep all of your emotions and allow them to fester inside of you. It will only boil and bubble until one day the vessel you hold it in breaks.” Letting his hand slip from Lance’s shoulder, he sighed. “I take it you hardly sleep and you have nightmares as well?”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at him. “How do you know?”

“War scars the soul. You can’t walk away from it without having a mark on your own.”

Blinking at him, Lance retorted, “Like what you did to Narti?”

Lotor sighed, his lip twitching as his eyes briefly shut. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Lance’s brows scrunched together as he puckered his lips together in a manner that made him resemble a child about to throw a tantrum. “Then make me understand. The more information you keep from me—from the rest of us—the less we understand you. Deep down, there’s good in you.”

That had Lotor throwing his head back, a laugh spilling from his lips as he pressed a hand against his abdomen as his laughter subsided. “Lance, don’t think in idealist terms like Allura. In the universe there is no good nor is their evil. There’s no war that pits those two concepts against each other like the pages of a fairy tale would have you believe.” That dark looked returned to Lotor’s eyes; that look that made Lance feel like a child standing before someone who easily had seen thousands of years pass by. Clasping his hands behind his back, Lotor continued. “Do you truly think there are times that Voltron hasn’t committed actions that in others eyes are as evil as anything the Galra could have done?

“Do you truly think that those countless Galra ships that you’ve destroyed didn’t contain people who were merely civilians? People who didn’t have family waiting back at home for them? Mere grunts who weren’t involved in warfare? For every life that you or Voltron has taken, Lance, there’s a story behind the victims. In war, there is no good person, just like there isn’t a bad one.”

Lance merely stared at him, a look of defeat wiping over his face as he let out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall next to him. He’d never put too much thought to his actions. He’d simply point his trigger at the enemy or destroy a warship with a Lion, but he’d never thought about the people on the other side of the war. His stomach danced inside of him as he imagined a little Galra child desperately clinging to their parent as the ship rumbled and shook before the entire thing went up in a ball of flames. “I—I never thought about that.” He breathed out.

“There’s no use in beating yourself up over it.” Lotor merely sighed. “What’s in the past is done and whatever may come up in the future is not up to any of us to prevent, the only thing we can do is hope that the goals we strive for now impact it and create a better future, built upon a desire for peace.”

“So…” Lance’s lips flattened into a thin, pink line as he contemplated the words that were ready to tumble from his lips. “Was that why you killed your general?”

“No,” Lotor stated firmly, his gaze flitting away from Lance’s face as he stared into the distance. “It was for entirely different reasons.” Eyes fluttering closed for a few brief seconds, he looked as if he was wrestling with himself; wrestling with words that he didn’t wish to utter out into the air.

“You don’t—” Lance began, but Lotor gave him a single shake of his head that had Lance’s lips slowly pressing shut.

“As a child, I had very little access to privacy due—” He shuddered, looking more disgusted than Lance had ever seen him act before, “—to Haggar. Anyone that ever got close to me, I would soon learn was never truly a friend, but rather a spy that Haggar had ensured would be around me, privy to my inner secrets and would inform her of the very second I took so much as a single breath. That changed, however—or at least I thought it had changed—when I found my generals. Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti.” He frowned when he got to Narti’s name. “The location of my ship got compromised, as I’m sure you can recollect.” Lance nodded at that. “No one besides I or my generals were privy to the location of the ship and the moment it came under attack I knew that our location had to have been compromised by one of them, but—” He trailed off.

“It had to be difficult for you to even assume that one of them would betray you?” Lance probed, the question falling from his tongue as Lotor’s brows pressed together and he gave a firm nod.

“Yes. When that happened, something just...made sense inside of me. When I laid eyes on Narti, I think a part of me knew. She’d been the perfect mole, someone who was blind and mute and instead relied on her cat for most of her senses. We were  _ close _ ,” Lotor’s voice cracked on the single word, just slightly enough that Lance could hear it, there was a wry smile that tugged at the edges of his lips. “We were close. Close enough to the point that I considered them more of a family than Zarkon who shared the same blood as me. Close enough that I was privy to their private information and they were as equally privy to mine. But when I looked at Narti...I just  _ knew _ that those countless hours spent together, fighting alongside one another, bleeding for each other had been wrapped up in a lie.”

There were locks of hair that had fallen in front of Lotor’s face as he spoke, a dying light flickering in his eyes that made Lance want to reach out, brush the locks away from his face, and cup his hand against Lotor’s cheek in a gesture of warmth. But his fingers merely twitched with the thought of the action as he continued to listen to Lotor.

“I felt trapped.” Lotor’s words were softer now, a whisper in the hallway that still sounded loud to both of their ears. “Something I always felt since I was a child. Like I was pinned down to one of the witch’s tables and was no more than another experiment for her to torment. I felt that there were no choices I could make but one. If I left Narti alive, who knew how long it would be before she found us? Before she lead all of us to the witch’s clutches?” The exhaustion was apparent in his words and for once Lance wondered how long Lotor had truly spent running...from the Galra, from the Empire, from...everything. He couldn’t fathom spending centuries running, looking over his shoulder terrified that just around the corner there was someone who was using him, exploiting him, for their own desires. He wondered how often Lotor had to change the masks he wore to please those around him, to just live for another day without the threat that the person he was speaking to would stab him in the back once he turned. But even then, it wasn’t guaranteed that they wouldn’t. Lotor had probably worn masks for so long that the tiny voice in the back of Lance’s mind had to remind him that he truly didn’t know Lotor’s true personality. He didn’t know him fully.

He wondered if Lotor wondered the same question.

Did he even know who he was himself?

As Lotor lifted his head to gaze in Lance’s eyes, something stirred inside of him. Something that he would reflect on later down the road. He wanted to tear down the walls that Lotor surrounded himself with; tear away his masks and the sharp daggers that he cloaked himself with as a means of protection. Sure, his generals were the closest to him than anyone else could have potentially been, but even Lance knew that they could never have torn away all of Lotor’s masks and walls—not fully—he would have never let them. But some part of him wanted to see beyond all of that, wanted to see who Lotor was down at his rawest, purified form.

He wanted that.

And as he spent the night standing there, listening to Lotor’s soft murmurings as he poured his heart out to Lance, he felt he’d made a crack in one of Lotor’s walls. It was small, but it was enough that with time and patience, the stones around it would crumble and break. Little by little, he would break through the walls until he would one day find himself standing in front of his goal.

To his complete and utter surprise, the lights in the halls of the ship brightened, indicating to its passengers that it was morning. 

Lance’s eyes flickered up to the lights as he tightened the belt of his robe, before turning to Lotor. “I didn’t realize it was morning already. You should get some rest.”

Despite the tiredness in Lotor’s eyes, he flashed Lance a half-smile. “I would suggest the same to you as well, Lance. I’ve already rested for three vargas.”

Jerking his head back as if he’d been personally insulted by Lotor’s lack of sleep, Lance blinked at him, once, and then twice. “Three vargas!?”

Giving a small shrug of his shoulders as if he didn’t think it was a big deal, Lotor merely replied, “it’s quite difficult for me to sleep. I’m used to sleeping that long for my own personal reasons.”

Lance wondered if those reasons had to do with Lotor wanting to be prepared for any threat that could potentially occur to him in his sleep. His mouth soured as he remembered the sharpened spoon that he had held against Lotor’s throat. Quickly brushing the memory aside, Lance frowned at Lotor’s immaculate skin and complexion, despite the Galra’s lack of beauty rest. “Then how the hell is your skin so smooth and gorgeous?” Lance’s eyes slightly widened as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Lotor’s brows raised by a fraction of an inch as he continued to give Lance that half-smile of his. “I suppose we should part though, I do have some personal effects that I wish to move to my room.”

Lance nodded at that, knowing full well that after Allura, Shiro, and Coran had decided that Lotor wasn’t that big of a threat to them—or more appropriately after Lotor killed Zarkon—that he didn’t deserve to be locked away in a cell and all three of them had offered Lotor a room aboard the ship. Not quite ready to part from Lotor’s side just yet, Lance returned Lotor’s smile with one of his own. “Since you’re not going to get any sleep and I’m bound to not go back to sleep, let me help you move your stuff.”

Giving a soft shake of his head, enough that locks of his hair just brushed against his shoulders and back, Lotor politely declined. “There isn’t much that needs to be moved.”

Waving away his concerns, however, Lance remained firm in his offer to help. “It’s no problem. Besides, the quicker we move your stuff, the more time you have to relax.”

Lotor looked like he was going to protest the offer, but he nodded his head in reluctance. They made their way down to the hangar, where to Lance’s complete and utter surprise that he found Lotor wasn’t joking about not having much to move. He had a handful of books and a small glass orb that looked like there was a tiny, swirling galaxy inside of it. They headed to Lotor’s room, it was no different from Lance’s own except for the fact that it was bare of any personal effects, save for the ones that he and Lotor held in their hands. Walking to the far side of the room, Lotor reached out and ran his fingers against the wall, pulling them away as a shelf retracted from it. Lining his books up neatly on the shelf, he thanked Lance for helping him carry his stuff.

Lance shrugged, merely reaching out to deposit the orb in Lotor’s outstretched hand, watching the Galra turn and place the orb on the shelf so that it propped up a book that looked ready to fall over. “It’s not that big of a deal,” Lance responded, though he was no longer interested in staring at Lotor’s form. Instead, his gaze was fixed upon the strange alien lettering that ran up and down the length of the spine of the books. 

It seemed oddly familiar to him. Walking over to Lotor’s side, he reached up, brushing his fingers against one. His fingers traced the gold lettering of the words. “What are these?” The intrigue in his voice was palpable to Lotor’s ears.

Humming appreciatively, he clasped his hands behind his back as his eyes followed the subtle movements of Lance’s fingers. “They’re old Altean books.”

Lance’s brows shot up in intrigue. “You understand Altean?”

“To some extent, but I don’t have the same level of ability over it that Allura or Coran posses.”

Nodding at that, Lance kept his attention focused on the books. “They seem really old,” Lance mumbled more to himself than he did to Lotor, who heard it anyway.

Drawing in a deep breath, Lance stilled as he turned his head to see Lotor’s face beside his own. His own eyes were focused upon the book that Lance’s fingers were brushing against. “They belonged to my mother.”

Whistling lowly, Lance wrenched his fingers away from the spine of the book. “Your mother was Altean?” He carefully studied Lotor’s features, seeing that some of his own matched up with Allura’s. His ears were far more pointed than any Galra Lance had ever encountered as well as the coloration of his eyes.

Lotor nodded as the two of them fell into a comfortable silence before Lance cut through it with a hot knife. “What was it like growing up? With you being half Galra and half Altean?”

Tearing his gaze away from Lance’s face, Lotor looked pensive as fell silent, only to respond a few seconds later. “It was difficult. Long before I was born, the Galra were more tolerant of racial diversity amongst the population when Altea still existed and both races were friendly with one another. It was a time when there were more Galra hybrids existed beyond I and my generals.” Lotor’s eyes glazed over as if he was dreaming of a past that he wished he could have experienced. “In such times, we would have been accepted regardless of the blood that runs through our veins. But make no mistake that not all Galra think in such similar parameters, only the ones that believe in the so-called  _ purity _ of Galra blood do.”

That earned a nod from Lance, who remarked, “That sounds a lot like how Earth is—” he furrowed his brow, “—or well how it used to be.”

Simply raising a single, white brow, Lotor cocked his head to the side at Lance’s statement. An alluring smile gracing across the expanse of his lips. “How so? What is Earth like?”

Pursuing his lips, Lance looked contemplative as his brain attempted to formulate a simple sentence to explain the complexity that wrapped itself up into a neat little orb and declared itself his home planet. “Earth is...diverse in a lot of ways.” He nodded to himself at the explanation he was giving. “There are aspects of Galra society that remind me of Earth a lot. Earth in the past—and well even now still in some smaller aspects—had a long history of oppressing people for who they were whether it was because of their race, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexuality. At some point, there were major wars fought over one thing or another because of the oppression.”

“Similar to the war you find yourself entangled in now?”

Lance nodded, trudging along with his explanation. “Even now there are still some assholes that exist on Earth that believe you can’t identify in a single way because they feel that it impacts them, or that it goes against their own personal belief or even science.” Lotor wrinkled his nose at that, his face scrunching up lightly at Lance’s mention of science being used to support bigotry and oppression. It caused a smile to stretch across Lance’s face. 

“It seems that Earth and the Galra have a lot more in common that I never realized.” Lotor sniffed with a slight scowl on his face. His gaze shifted toward Lance’s face as he watched the Paladin’s eyes slightly widen. His lips parted slightly as the tip of pink tongue darted out between the parted flesh to wet his lips.

Cheeks starting to slightly pinken, Lance jerked his head away from Lotor’s gaze as a gentle fire flickered to life in his stomach. There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of his earlier apprehensions regarding Lotor. He knew nothing about the former exiled Galra prince, now emperor. It was that same nagging in the back of his mind that kept his reservations regarding how little he knew about Lotor—about anything really—that should’ve kept him alert and on his toes.

But he couldn’t disregard how easy it was for him to relax around Lotor; how easy it was for the two of them to talk and have a conversation with one another. It was a similar relationship that he had with Pidge and Matt, but yet...it wasn’t. It felt deeper than his connection with two people he viewed as an extension of his own family. But there was an undercurrent to it that made Lance feel like he was swimming in a pool filled with murky liquid, that if he just dunked his head underneath it, it would be a lottery as to what he would see beneath the darkness. A desire to assuage fire flickering in his stomach, Lance reached up and plucked the book that he’d been admiring just a mere second earlier down from the shelf. He held it out toward Lotor, “This book seems interesting. What’s it about?”

There was a fond gaze in Lotor’s eyes as he gingerly took the book from Lance’s hand. Gently he pressed the fingers of his right hand against the cover as he lightly traced the golden words on it with the tips of his gloved fingers. “This,” he breathed out, in a voice that was gripped by a raw expression of fondness, “was my mother’s favorite book.” Opening the cover, Lotor idly flipped through a few pages that were covered in handwritten notes that littered the margins. As he flipped past page after page, the fondness in his eyes seemed to mix with a bitter expression of loss and sadness. “My mother was a brilliant alchemist who was the first to discover and revolutionize the way Altean’s, the Galra, and thousands of other races and species viewed Quintessence. These books were her own research notes, a collection of her own thoughts and discoveries.” There was a half-smile that slipped across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s one of the few possessions that I hold that once belonged to her.”

Lance’s brows furrowed at Lotor’s words. “Don’t you have any pictures of her or anything?”

A dark look swept over Lotor’s face at those words, as if he was being reminded of something he’d rather forget. His words were clipped as he spoke, “No. Zarkon made certain that our empire’s once friendly history with the Altean’s was warped so that our people could view the destruction of Daibazaal and the treatment of our people as justifications for this war. So much of our friendly history with Altea was scrubbed and purged from the empire...including many pictures of my mother.” There was hopeful glint that flashed across his eyes. “But when I ascend to the throne, I plan for that history to be unburied and spoken with truth. I will find any artifacts or recollections that still exist of Altea and Daibazaal’s history together.” Gripped up within the fervor and emotion of his own words, Lotor shifted his gaze to stare at Lance’s face.

There was something so pure, bright, and unfiltered flickering behind his eyes as Lance absorbed Lotor’s words. There was something so...pure and unfettered about the passion and hope that was raw and present in Lotor’s words. “I’ll help you...you know,” Lance said after quite some time. “When you ascend to the throne. I’ll help you look for any artifacts or stuff that belonged to your mom.”

The half-smile that was present on Lotor’s face transformed into a full one as he nodded. “Thank you, Lance.”

As Lance stared at him and pondered over Lotor’s words, he realized the appeal of having Lotor on the throne. While there were some mannerisms and ideas that he possessed that Lance necessarily didn’t agree with him on, he was by far the most potential pick for the new leader of the empire. He was fair and liberal, yet had a firm hand when it was necessary. He wasn’t as sadistic or needlessly cruel as other Galra commanders were and could be. In Lance’s opinion, he was the best option that Voltron had for a new ruler of the Galra Empire, but he knew his fellow teammates wouldn’t see eye to eye with him.

As he gently set the book back onto the shelf, Lance let out a weary yawn as he threw his arms over his head and stretched. “Well, I think it’s time for me to get going and take a shower.”

Turning to face him, Lotor cocked a brow in his direction. “It’s early, isn’t it?”

Lance gave him a shrug of his shoulders as the half-truth of the matter bloomed onto the tip of his tongue. “I like taking early morning showers.” As Lance made his way over to the door, he paused for a brief moment and turned around. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Talking to me.”

“Why?”

Lance shrugged his shoulders as a lopsided smile brushed across his face. “I guess I just needed it.”


	15. The Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, a day late, but I'm finally uploading the two chapters I promised you guys and then we're back to the regularly scheduled Saturday updates.

Lance’s heart was pounding as he raced through the halls of the ship. Skidding as he rounded a corner, his arms flailed out in a measure to balance his uneasy gait. Tipping forward, he pressed the flat of his palm against the ground, before pushing off of it and straightening his body upright. He raced toward the end of the corridor, the door in front of him parting open to reveal Coran, Matt, and the collective members of Team Voltron standing around with uneasy looks upon their faces.

The only two missing however were Shiro and Lotor.

Allura’s brows were pushed together as she turned to Coran, her shoulders stiffening as she asked. “Where could they have gone?”

Coran who was in charge of ensuring the whereabouts of the Lions and their respective Paladins simply gave Allura a frustrated shake of his head. “I’m uncertain Princess. Neither Shiro nor his Lion are here, not to mention that I can’t track them from the ship. So wherever he and Lotor have gone there’s some sort of device that obscures me from finding out their location.”

Where could Shiro have even taken Lotor…

Suddenly the information fizzled inside of Lance’s mind like a lightbulb coming to life. “Shiro took Lotor to the Kral Zera.”

Looking uncertain of his recent exclamation, Allura turned toward him. “Why would he have done that?”

Lance shook his head, frustration causing his lips to purse. “Shiro’s been acting weird ever since he was rescued.” He held up a single hand, curling back his index finger as he spoke. His other fingers followed as he mentioned evidence to back up his suspicions. “He’s been getting frequent headaches. His behavior has been weird. Do I need to go on?”

“Shiro could just be stressed. He’s been through a lot more than anyone here.” Matt spoke up, everyone besides Lance nodding their head in agreement.

Pointing a single finger in Matt’s direction, Lance’s mouth turned down into a tired grimace. “You’ve known Shiro the longest out of all of us here. You can’t tell me that a lot of his actions these past few months haven’t been weird to you either.”

A frown worked itself across Matt’s face as if he was second-guessing his own opinions concerning Shiro. “Sure, he’s been different, but—”

Shaking his head, Lance cut him off as he turned to face Allura. “Look I’m not asking you to believe me and I don’t care if you don’t either. But you need to trust me.”

Closing her eyes for a few brief seconds, she drew in a sigh before relenting. “Fine, everyone head to their Lions. Coran contact the Blade of Marmora and see if you can’t get the coordinates for the Kral Zera from them.”

A wave of confusion washed over them all at the order that fell from Allura’s mouth. Pidge was the only one to voice the question that was on everyone’s mind as Coran furiously typed in the background. “Why would the Blade of Marmora know the location—”

Lance’s eyes widened as he drew in a sharp breath. “Because Keith’s on the planet isn’t it?” Allura avoiding his gaze was all the confirmation he needed from her.

Spinning on his heels he rushed toward the door, he bit down on his lower lip as a bundle of nervousness coursed through him. “We need to get there as fast as we can.”

“Why?”

Lance stopped, slowly turning to address Allura behind him. “Because if we don’t...it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

 

Groaning as he ground his teeth in frustration, Shiro weaved and dodged through a hail of enemy fire that seemed to grow with each passing second. A million thoughts that were all self-berating at his earlier plan of coming to the Kral Zera without backup or reinforcements of any kind were brewing in the interior of his mind. A particularly strong blast to the rear of his Lion had him tumbling through the air as the interior of the cockpit became awash in flashing red lights and warning sounds. Through gritted teeth, he groaned out, “I can’t handle them by myself!”

Static crackled in his headset, before a warm, familiar voice triumphantly exclaimed, “It looks like you could use some help!”

Lifting his head, Shiro could see the Red Lion leading the rest of the Lions into the midst of battle. He could nearly picture Lance’s cocky grin within the interior of his own respective cockpit. Invigorated by the arrival of his teammates and friends, Shiro was filled with a renewed sense of energy as the Lions weaved and danced through the countless enemy ships that surrounded the planet. Lighting up the sky in a sea of color and debris as the Lions wove through it all, releasing destruction from their maws. Nuts, bolts and countless debris from the ships floated aimlessly through space as ash from charred bodies rained down upon the atmosphere.

Lance was reclined in the seat of the Red Lion as he observed on his screen, Lotor climbed up the grandiose steps wordlessly. His fellow Paladins were equally as silent as they all observed Lotor; the aftermath of their fortuitous battle floating around them or mere ashes that now rested upon the planet. Compelled as he watched Lotor climb the steps with a torch grasped firmly in his hand, he could feel the universe minutely shifting for this one singular moment in history as he was watched intently. Lotor tipped the torch into the ceremonial pyre and watched as the purple flame grew and lit the pillar.

The archivist raised his arms in the air as he turned to address the crowd of Galra, who mere moments before had been vying for the throne themselves. “The flame is lit. Bow to your emperor.”

One by one, the Galra fell to their knees as Lotor turned to take in his subjects who now owed their lives and very allegiances to him. A breeze ruffled his hair as the sun slowly rose above the horizon illuminating his silhouette in a thin gaze of golden, yellow light.

Lance drew in a deep breath as he watched Lotor turn his head...this time to gaze up at the Red Lion. His skin bloomed with a warm fire as he felt Lotor was gazing through Red and directly at him instead.

From this day forward, he knew everything was going to be different.

 

Who knew that being crowned emperor meant that everyone would be wrapped up in diplomatic meeting after meeting?

For the past week, Lotor, Allura, and Coran had been embroiled in meetings with Galra leaders, the Blade of Marmora, and Coalition members alike as they hammered out details and important things that flew over Lance’s head at the mere mention of them. For most, they needed to wrap their head around the fact that Lotor was the new emperor. For many, it was more or less a test to see how the new emperor was different from Zarkon in any way...or if he was similar. Everyone else was mostly left to their own devices dealing with different tasks for the Coalition in any way they could. Lance, however, often attended some of the meetings. Despite his lack of understanding for most of the topics that were discussed, some of them truly intrigued him...even if he often went to the meetings with an ulterior motive in mind.

One such day, he walked into the meeting room. The doors sliding apart in front of his face, to reveal Lotor grossly enraptured in a talk he was having with some alien dignitary. Lotor excused himself abruptly in the middle of the conversation as he lifted his right wrist to pull off a hair tie—when did Lotor even carry around hair ties?—he raised his hands as he pulled back his hair and worked it into a messy ponytail. A few wisps of hair broke free from the ponytail and hung loosely around his head.

Lance’s mouth went dry at the new look as Lotor turned and spotted Lance. He lifted his arm, his mouth open to call out a greeting to him, but instead watched in amusement as Lance squeaked, spun on his heels and sped walked out of the room.

A desire to avoid Lotor lead Lance to spending most of his time with Pidge and Matt and it was where he found himself now, seated on the floor of the science room with a controller in his hand as he tested out a game Pidge had coded using the ship’s interface. It was an RPG, multiplayer battle game that she had roped Lance and Matt into testing out.

Pidge mashed her thumbs against the buttons of her controller as Matt cast a spell against the monster blocking their path. Lance’s character in the game disappeared for a few seconds, before reappearing behind the monster and threw a bunch of magic-infused knives into its back. “So, Lance,” Pidge probed as thick golden letters declared: you won on the screen, “when are you going to stop staring at Lotor like he’s a tasty snack?”

Lance drew in a sharp breath, quick enough that he found himself coughing and spluttering as his character on screen took a nasty hit from a monster that appeared out of a vase. Turning his head, he stared at Pidge, his brow arched in a look of disbelief.

To Pidge’s right, Matt tapped a few buttons on his controller as his character turned around and cast a lightning spell against Pidge’s character, reducing her on-screen persona to no more than a pile of ashes. “Hey!” Pidge shouted in frustration as the game released a shrill tune and golden letters that informed Pidge her character had died.

Matt looked a little sheepish as he pulled a hand off of his controller, formed a fist with it, and lightly punched his sister in the shoulder as she glared at him. “It was kind of obvious.”

_ Oh….shit. _

“Does the rest of the team—”

“—Know?” There was a warm chuckle that bubbled from Matt’s throat. “Probably not.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Lance’s brows scrunched together as he stared at Matt suspiciously. “Wait...then how did you know?”

Throwing her head back, Pidge paused the game as a long drawn out groan was pulled from her throat. She shot up from her seat, mumbling the whole while about going to go talk to her dad—who was still on Olkarion—rather than listening in on her brother regaling tales of his sexual history. Matt simply smiled as Pidge left the room. “Lance, I’ve been in space for a really long time. For such a long time that as a 22-year-old, you don’t spend years in space alongside a bunch of alien races that don’t adhere to a gender binary and call yourself  _ straight _ for that long.”

Uncertain of what to say about what Matt had just told him, he nodded as both of them fell silent. Matt broke the silence however by saying, “So...Lotor, huh? Not a bad choice.”

“Matt, please shut up,” Lance grumbled as his cheeks turned scarlet, his face heating up from embarrassment as he let his face fall into upturned hands.

Matt threw his head back as he let out a laugh that had him pressing his arms to his sides. There were tears spilling from his eyes as he hiccuped out advice to Lance. “If you need condoms, lube, whatever I can tell you some great shops in the space mall to go and get some.”

“Oh my god, Matt.” Lance sounded incredibly scandalized.

Despite Lance’s embarrassment, Matt continued on anyway as he leaned close to Lance and rested a hand on his shoulder. His face was devoid of laughter, though there was a half-smirk still lingering on his face. “Alright time to be serious.” He pursed his lips together as if he was looking for the best way to formulate his thoughts into words. “Galra anatomy is...different.” Lance’s face was lit up in a silent question. “Take it from someone who’s seen their fair share of Galra dick, but they...glow...like neon light stick in the dark type of glow. They have ridges too and are about as thick as one of Shiro’s arms.”

Pressing his hands together, Lance held them in front of his face as he mentally freaked out as the imagery of Lotor pulling down his pants and a dick that was as thick as Shiro’s arm and glowed neon purple swirled in his mind.

“What are the two of you dweebs talking about?” Pidge cocked a brow as she walked back into the room and observed Lance looking like he’d just been mentally scarred for the rest of his life and Matt with a shit eating grin on his face.

   “Nothing that concerns you,” Matt replied back, struggling to control the laughter in him that threatened to come out.

Pidge rolled her eyes as she walked over, resumed the game, resurrected her character with an item from her inventory and slashed Matt’s character in two with a giant, flaming sword.

“Hey!”

“Payback’s a bitch.” She sang out as Matt punched her in the shoulder yet again. The two of them burst out laughing as Lance smiled warmly, pushing any and all thoughts of Lotor’s dick out of his mind...for now.

 

A couple hours later and Lance was standing in front of the training room. He was decked out in his undersuit, and the lower portion of his armor, save for the belt. His bayard was gripped loosely in his fingers. The doors to the training room parted open as the clang of blades reached his ears. Lifting his eyes to see who else was using the training room beside him, he was surprised to see Lotor dancing across the training room floor as he spun and avoided the blade of the training robot that advanced in on him. Lance drank in the sight of Lotor donning a black sleeveless undersuit that conformed to his body like a second skin, yet exposed the litany of faint white scars that littered his arms. His hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail that swayed as Lotor barrel rolled over a particularly nasty sword swing that would have cleaved him in two. His skin was shining with sweat as he panted heavily to repeal that attacks that were being aimed at his body.

Lance’s mouth may have been slightly watering as watched Lotor spin around, the broadsword in his hand twirling as he slashed through the robot causing it to disappear into a flurry of flashing blue light and static. His eyes studied the sword; taking in the long length of it, the deep blue of the center of the sword’s guard that reminded him of the same coloration of the accent of Lotor’s armor; the glowing violet lights that made up the sword’s quillons and pommel. His lips parted in a surprised gasp that had Lotor’s head snapping in his direction. “Lance?”

“Is that an Altean Broadsword?” Lance’s eyes twinkled with curiosity as he rushed into the training room to get a better look at Lotor’s sword.

Lotor’s brows were raised as he seemed surprised that Lance could even recognize the weapon. “Yes. I had a blacksmith with knowledge of Altean weaponry make this for me...before Zarkon killed him of course. But how do you have knowledge of—”

Before Lotor could even complete his question, the Bayard in Lance’s hand was glowing and transformed into his own broadsword. Lotor’s mouth twitched into an intrigued smile as his eyes narrowed, eyes darkening with an emotion that Lance knew very well. His cheeks warmed as raised his empty fist and coughed into it nervously. “So...training, huh?”

“Yes,” Lotor nodded as he twirled the blade effortlessly in his hand, “I was feeling rather rusty aboard the ship. So, I decided that a good training session would allow me to put my skills to use.” A smirk effortlessly stretched across his features as a brow twitched upward. “Though I should be inviting you to join me.”

If it was possible Lance’s cheeks heated up even more. “What?” He croaked out, his voice cracking as the word fell out. He coughed into his fist again and repeated the word. “What?”

His eyes flickered to Lance’s Bayard. “The way you held your sword it was very...amateurish.”

Eyes narrowing at the comment, Lance looked more than peeved at Lotor’s words as he transformed the Bayard in his hand into a broadsword. He knew it was a playful barb that Lotor was lobbing his way by the elvish smile that graced Lotor’s lips anyway, but he playfully decided to toss it back into Lotor’s court. “I’ve used it plenty of times. I’m not amateurish in the slightest. In fact, I think I’d be good enough to take you on.” The cockiness of Lance’s words had Lotor smiling as he cocked his head to the side, crooked a single finger in his direction and made a “come hither” motion that had Lance feeling more than one complex emotion inside of him. Lance let out a guttural yell as he wrapped both hands around the pommel of the sword. Pointing it lowly at the ground, he rushed toward Lotor and when he was about at least a foot away from him, he swung the sword in an upward arch that Lotor easily blocked with the flat end of his own sword. That perfect little smirk seemed to grow on Lotor’s face, dropping lowly Lance stuck his right leg out and swept it in an arc in an attempt to sweep Lotor off of his feet.

Lotor saw it coming however and simply vaulted over Lance’s back. Lance shot up from the ground, his back still to Lotor when he stiffened as he found Lotor’s chest a few inches from his back. The edge of Lotor’s sword hovering a fraction of an inch away from his neck. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Lotor’s face hovering next to his own as Lotor whispered into his ear, causing a shiver to travel up his back as the emperor’s smooth voice penetrated his ear. “I think this would be the part where I tell you that I’ve won... _ Paladin _ .” Lance’s mouth felt dry as the tips of his ears went pink. Pulling a hand off the pommel of his sword, he tucked in his arm and elbowed Lotor in the stomach.

He didn’t see that coming, especially not Lance’s next move. Lance swung his blade, aiming for the middle of Lotor’s blade. The force of the attack causing the blade to fly from his hand and clatter somewhere behind Lotor. Lance cocked his head to the side, his own cocky smirk playing on his lips. “What was that about you winning?”

Rolling his shoulders as he cracked his neck from side to side, there was a devilish smile on Lotor’s face that had Lance’s heart pounding inside of his chest. “Who's to say that not having a weapon means the fight is over?”

Spinning around on the back of his heels, Lance barely had time to blink as Lotor’s hand shot out to grip his wrist, bending the appendage back painfully enough that it had Lance wincing as his own sword clattered to the ground. Lotor’s other hand shot up, his fingers curled toward his palm in an open fist as he delivered an open-handed punch to Lance’s sternum. Releasing his grip on Lance’s wrist, he watched the Paladin stumble back as he drew in a series of quick and painful breathes, his right hand pressed flatly against the center of his chest as the pain to his sternum slowly dissipated. The creases of his face were wrinkled from anger. 

He watched as Lotor bounced on the balls of his feet as he raised his fists so that they were parallel with his chin. Well, if he wanted to make this a fight...Lance mimicked the stance, though his feet were spread the width of his shoulders and his feet firmly planted to the ground. He quickly darted forward, Lotor dancing away from him like this was a game of cat versus mice. His arms still held up near his chin, Lotor quickly moved forward throwing a right jab that Lance danced out of the way of, but was quickly followed by a left punch that he didn’t seem and unfortunately connected with Lance’s jaw. Stumbling backward, he had just enough time to catch the brunt of a high knee kick that Lotor aimed at his body with the flat of his palm. Lashing out with a right leg kick that connected with Lotor’s side, Lance drew in a sharp breath as Lotor aimed a sharp punch to the left side of his ribs. Dancing out the way, Lotor aimed a quick series of kicks to Lance’s leg that had the muscles there quivering. Wanting to win this fight to soothe his ego, Lance jumped in the air, aiming a flying kick at Lotor’s stomach that had the emperor stumbling backward.

A spluttering cough fell from Lotor’s lips as he pressed a hand to his abdomen, there was a playful smirk on his lips. “You know, you look quite stunning when you work out.”

“Wha—” Before Lance could even finish the word, he was falling backward quicker than he could process. He blinked finding Lotor’s thighs pressed to either side of his head as he lay flat against the floor. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he got an eyeful of Lotor’s bulge in his face. The blood in Lance’s face caused his skin to redden and heat up.

“I think I can definitely say that I’ve won on this occasion.” Lotor laughed, before glancing down to see Lance’s reddened face. “Are you upset?”

“I’m not.” The words rushed past Lance’s lips. “Can you just get off me?”

Lotor rose to his feet, offering a hand to Lance to pull the Paladin up. Waving it away, Lance pushed himself up to his own feet as Lance’s brows were pushed together in worry. “Have I offended you?”

“No,” Lance grumbled turning his back to Lotor so that he wouldn’t see the  _ cause _ of his current frustration. “I’m just a little worn out is all. I’m going to go take a shower.” Quickly sweeping up his weapon, Lance rushed out of the room, leaving a confused Lotor behind in his wake.

 

He made sure to avoid Lotor as much as he humanly could. Though he couldn’t avoid him forever…

Lance saw him the day they all returned to Olkarion. The Olkari had completed work on a small ship that would be able to take Sam Holt back to Earth safely. They’d all recorded messages for their families—after all, they’d just flown off into space once Shiro crash landed and they had found Blue. There wasn’t much time for any of them to say goodbye to their families. Hunk was handing over their recordings to Sam as he pointed to the one on the farthest right. “My message is for my mom only since I start getting teary-eyed toward the end.” Hunk bumped his shoulder against Lance’s as he folded his hands together and made kissy faces into the air. “Oh, and you don’t want to see Lance’s either since it’s probably just a love message to Jenny Shaybottom.” Hunk paused, his eyes narrowing and his mouth flattening out into a thin line of confusion. “Or the other Jenny. What was her name?”

“Hunk.” There was some bite in Lance’s tone, causing everyone’s gaze to snap toward him. “I wasn’t ever serious about Jenny. She was a crush I had for a year. Just drop it already.”

Looking taken aback by Lance’s sharp tone, Hunk glowered. “I was just joking. You’ve never been this upset over my Jenny jokes before. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Lance snapped back bitterly. He threw his arms into the air above his head, he pulled them back down to cross them protectively in front of his chest. He sniffled softly, looking close to crying. “It’s just...once I started thinking about the Earth. I thought about everyone back there. All the people we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to; all the people who worried about us for the past year and a half as they probably wondered where we were. It just made me miss everything about the Earth—everyone—it made me miss my mom, my brother Luis, my sister Veronica, and my  _ abuelita _ .” Lance sighed as he brought a sleeve up to rub at his eyes. “I just...I hate all of this.” Lance swept his arm out in a sweeping arch. “I hate not being home with my family. I hate this stupid war.”

“Lance.” Hunk whispered, not even giving his friend a chance to respond before he pulled his friend into a hug. In a corner of the room, Lotor who’d been observing the entire thing narrowed his eyes.

 

A few weeks passed by and the Paladins had been invited to the Central Command Ship after a transitionary period where Lotor had transferred his meager belongings with him to the heart of the Galra Empire as he began to take on more work and diplomatic requirements related to his new position. He’d invited all of them aboard the ship, mostly to take a tour of it and to be transparent with the Paladins even in the heart of the empire just like he was aboard the castleship. He’d given them all a tour of the ship, that was impressively at least four times the size of the castle. After the tour was done, he personally called Lance aside to follow him as he left the other Paladins to their own devices.

“Where are we going?” Lance finally spoke up after walking silently beside Lotor for at least ten minutes.

“You’ll see.” Was the only cryptic response Lotor would offer him as they stopped in front of a massive door. Lotor pressed his hand against a scanner on the side of it.

He swore if Lotor was planning on murdering him.

The doors slid apart causing Lance’s eyes to widen as he wordlessly took in what he was seeing. Taking a step forward, Lance’s shoes sunk into the soft pillowy sand beneath him as he watched waves lazily lap at the edges of a shoreline. The sun above him soaked into his skin with a warmth that felt hyperrealistic.

He knew this place like the back of his hand. It was a beach he’d gone to so many times as a child in Cuba. He whirled around on his feet to take in the pleased look on Lotor’s face. “I had a bunch of my technicians recreate this  _ beach _ —” Lotor paused at the unfamiliar Earth terminology. “—for you from what I remembered aboard—” Clamping his lips shut, Lotor didn’t bother completing the sentence when he saw the way Lance’s face scrunched up at the memory. “—from what I could remember from what I experienced.”

Lance turned his head, taking in the swaying palm trees, the crystal, clear, blue of the sea. The way when he tipped his head back and drew in a lungful of air, he could smell the salt of the sea...just as if he was back on Earth. He glanced at Lotor, a single word on his lips. “Why?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lotor simply responded the only way he knew how. “There was someone who once said that there doesn’t need to be a reason for small acts of kindness.” Lotor’s eyes flickered over Lance’s back as turned his attention back to the beach. “I’ll leave you to enjoy this—” His hand swept out to motion to the beach. “—by yourself.”

“You’re not staying?”

Lotor was surprised by the question. Just enough that he didn’t quite know what to say for a while, but he shook his head. “I have work to attend to, besides this was all made with you in mind. So I’d rather you take the time to enjoy it to yourself.”

Lance nodded as he was already slipping himself out of his shoes. As Lotor turned to leave the room, he saw Lance moving closer to the sea, the waves lapping at his toes as he slowly sat down in the warm sand with a face that looked so blissfully serene. So free of the terrors and nightmares that surely haunted him with every waking moment, yet he was sitting on a holographic beach as if there was no care in the world. His toes wiggling in the sand every time the water lapped at them.

The scene caused a smile to grace Lotor’s features as he turned his back to it.

  
  


The whole ship felt like a battleground of emotions. There was an undercurrent of delight as Lance passed by the lounge where Allura was excitedly explaining all that she had seen on Oriande to the others as the Castle drifted away through the Patrulian zone. He had only one person in mind that he felt he needed to talk to as he headed to the bridge. Coran was gone, either relaxing with the other Paladins or attending to some duties that needed to be done aboard the ship. Instead, Lotor was perched upon the stairs, his forehead resting against hands that were intertwined together. In here there was no excitement, only a bitter sense of disappointment.

“Lotor?” 

The Galra Emperor made no movement at the sound of his own name. In fact, he made no reaction at the sound of Lance’s voice. The Paladin frowned at that as he crossed the bridge and came up to Lotor’s side, turning around to lean against the raised dais, he reached out and rested a hand on top of Lotor’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Lotor grumbled, finally raising his head from his hands to glance at Lance from the corner of his eyes. “What makes me so different from Allura?” There was anger in his voice that had Lance staring at him sympathetically. “When we were on Oriande and we both faced the white lion do you know what I felt when I saw that I was the only one to appear at the entrance? With Allura hidden deep within the temple as the realization that she had passed and I had failed came into my mind? I felt anger, shame...and disgust.” The anger had morphed into sorrow, Lotor’s eyes shined heavily with the despondent emotions swirling inside of him. “My one chance to learn more about Altea, its people, its culture and its secrets.” He paused to pull his hands apart and stare at his palms, before curling his fingers into fists that trembled. “My one chance and I failed! All because I had _this_ _blood_ tainting me.”

Lance’s eyes widened in alarm at hearing Lotor talk that way about himself. He’d known Lotor to take pride in both halves of his heritage, but to hear him, now, lament the Galra side of him was something that had him reaching out and gently laying a hand over Lotor’s left fist. “Hey,” he whispered as he shifted away from the wall until he was standing in front of Lotor. He dropped to a crouch until he was in Lotor’s view. “Don’t talk like that. Just because you’re half Galra doesn’t mean that affected your chance at Oriande. That doesn’t mean it tainted it either. What? Do you think there are some long dead Alteans who are now ghosts who sit around, sip tea, and decide who's worthy to learn all the secrets of Oriande? I’d hate to be them, could you imagine nothing to do for centuries except wait for people to show up?” Lance playfully wrinkled his nose at the imagery as the joke earned a rumbling chuckle from Lotor. The Galra’s eyes softened a little at the joke. “Oriande isn’t gone. It’s not like you can’t go back someday, it’s not like you’re locked out of it. And from what I know about Altea from what Allura mentions about it, it just seems like you think differently from them and that isn’t a bad thing. You pursue knowledge by never yielding to it. You never give up. But Allura? She gains knowledge because she’s willing to lay down her life for it. You’re used to fighting for it whereas Allura is used to sacrificing herself for it, she’s willing to bend to its whims in order to gain what she wants. What you have isn’t a disadvantage it’s an advantage and you just have to learn how to adapt it to different situations.”

There was a bitter laugh that rumbled from the hollow of Lotor’s throat. “I’ve been so used to the Galra way that I can never unlearn it.” His eyes narrowed. “How does that make me any different from my father?”

Lance shook his head, his hand on Lotor’s fist tightened a little until he was squeezing the flesh. He stared directly into Lotor’s eyes. “Everyone has different ways of obtaining knowledge. There’s no right or wrong way. No one singular way that triumphs over them all. Just because you’re half Galra doesn’t mean that makes you any less of an Altean compared to Allura or Coran.” Lance rolled the wrist of his other hand in a vague motioning gesture. “I’m sure there’s someone in the universe who’s half worm and they’re still as worthy as anyone at what they do.” That earned another chuckle from Lotor, a smile crept across Lance’s own face. “Don’t ever think that what makes you different from everyone else can also be a weakness. It’s not. And that doesn’t ever mean you’re cut off from the other half of your heritage.”

“Thank you—” Lotor whispered, his eyes shining as they settled on Lance’s own. There were warning signs that screamed in the back of Lance’s mind for him to pull away as Lotor relaxed his hand, slid it out from underneath Lance’s own as the Paladins hand fell down to rest on Lotor’s knee. Lance’s gaze darted to watch Lotor gingerly place his hand on top of his own, the cool material of his glove against his bare skin felt like a thousand volts of electricity dancing up his spine as he turned his gaze back to Lotor’s face. “—Lance.” The way Lotor said Lance’s name; soft, with a bit of desire beneath it had Lance’s tongue darting out between his lips to wet them. He could feel the heat on his face, his eyes widening in shock as he felt a pair of lips press against his own. Sighing into the kiss, Lance’s eyes slipped shut as Lotor’s other hand came up to cup his cheek. 

Plush lips were pressed against his own as Lance made the stunning discovery that Lotor was a few degrees hotter than the average human being. Tilting his head to the side, Lance let out a soft gasp as Lotor’s tongue darted out and slipped in between the pillowy flesh of his lips to taste the warm cavern of his mouth. His own taste buds bloomed with the aftertaste of citrus and something sweeter that reminded him of cinnamon as he came undone by Lotor’s kiss. He felt like a ball of clay being prodded and molded beneath Lotor’s careful fingers. It wasn’t until his own tongue brushed against the tip of Lotor’s own that he pulled away with a pair of swollen, shining lips and the realization of what had just happened.

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if he’d just been interrogated by his mother for something that he hadn’t done. “That—” he began, only to trail off as he could find no words that would come to his tongue.

“—Was delightful?” Lotor finished for him, a cocky smirk on the edge of his lips, his brow raised as he slid his hand down Lance’s cheek to run a single thumb over his kiss-swollen lips.

“No,” Lance shook his head yet again, his voice hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken in millennia. Pulling away from Lotor’s touch it was enough to see the brief flash of hurt and confusion that burned in Lotor’s eyes and had Lance quickly backtracking to explain himself. “The kiss...it was nice...but I—”

“But?”

“Do you even like me?” Lance’s cheek pinkened as the middle schoolish tone of his question burned within his ears. He felt embarrassed as if he was back the courtyard of his middle school, surrounded by a bunch of friends as he asked a crush whose name had been lost to the sea of time if she had liked him in a way only middle schoolers were capable of processing their own emotions.

Seemingly taken aback by Lance’s question, Lotor dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I will admit...I do find you...intriguing.”

Inside his body, Lance felt his heart skip a beat at Lotor’s words even as his brain rushed to convince him that Lotor’s words could have a whole slew of meanings behind it. Dipping his own head, until he avoided Lotor’s gaze, he breathed out. “I need some time to think. Some time to process...everything that just happened...between us.” Finally lifting his head, Lance motioned between himself and Lotor.

The smirk on Lotor’s face only widened at that as he cocked his head to the side, his eyes shining as he reached out to stroke Lance’s cheek. “I understand.” He whispered as if he was willing to wait a thousand years until Lance was comfortable with the situation.

Some part of Lance realized bubbled inside of himself as he realized that Lotor very well would have.

  
  



	16. The Love in Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (੭•̀ω•́)੭̸*✩⁺˚ I keep saying earlier chapters were my favorite ones to write, but I really liked writing this one...I just like writing about this pairing in general. Also as a heads up (￣ω￣) the next chapter contains everyone's favorite things: lube, smut, and Galra dick anatomy! Consider it an early Christmas present from me to you guys.

He wasn’t outright avoiding Lotor as he stared up at his ceiling, his right arm tucked underneath his head as a makeshift pillow. His lips still burned as if Lotor had just kissed them, despite the kiss having happened nearly a week ago. Groaning in frustration as he flopped onto his side, he didn’t know how to process how he felt.

On one hand, he really  _ really _ liked Lotor. He felt a connection with him that he didn’t feel with the other Paladins. Like the two of them understood each other even if he didn’t agree with most of the ways Lotor chose to approach his problems. But he also was wary of Lotor, he knew that Lotor could be equally as cruel as he could be kind and there were no amount of excuses that could justify his cruel behavior. Sighing, he brought his own fingers up to his lips as he slowly traced his bottom lip with the tip of his middle finger, he shivered as he felt Lotor’s phantom touch tracing across the skin. Turning so that his face was smooshed into his pillow, a frustrated groan tore itself from his throat as he contemplated his situation. He didn’t even know if he liked guys! He’d had a few identity crises in space, especially the long nights in which Lotor would stay with him in his cell, but that didn’t help him come to a determination if he liked guys sexually, romantically, or both.

There wasn’t any determination needed for him to decide that he was sexually attracted to Lotor. He’d been replaying the memory of Lotor with his knees splayed on either side of him, giving Lance an eyeful of his junk more than he would like to admit. It wasn’t a realization that he was 100% comfortable with yet, but it was something that he was slowly working toward. But, he couldn’t help but worry what it was that Lotor wanted from Lance. Was he looking for a relationship? Frowning at the prospect of being no more than one-half of a friends with benefits type relationship.

The more he dwelled on it, the more frustrated he became as he couldn’t quite wrap his head around a concrete little box that would help him understand his own feelings. Feeling frustrated and a little peckish as he hadn’t really eaten dinner, Lance pushed himself off of his bed and walked out of his room with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He was a foot away from it when he heard someone calling out to him.

“Lance!

Turning his head toward the sound, Lance was a little more than surprised to see Shiro awake at this odd hour of the day. The lights were dim on the ship and despite the lack of a clock in Lance’s room, he knew that it was in the early hours of the morning when the rest of his teammates should have been held up in their rooms sleeping off the weariness of the day. “Shiro?” Lance’s eyes flickered up and down the hall, nervously, he couldn’t quite give a reason for his behavior. His skin crawling as the back of his neck tingled from goosebumps, his entire body stiffened as he shifted his gaze back to Shiro. “What are you doing up?” The wariness in Lance’s tone had Shiro slightly frowning as he gave Lance a glance that traveled from head to toe.   
   His own eyes crinkled around the corner of them. “I should ask you the same thing.”

Lance’s mouth slightly opened, that worming suspicion that crawled in his stomach that something was slightly off with Shiro had him clamping it shut. “I just couldn’t sleep.” He answered after quite a few seconds had passed. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

Nodding at that, Shiro replied, “I guess that makes the both of us then. Want to get some snacks from the kitchen?”

Snacks from the kitchen consisted of some sugary treats Hunk had made earlier in the day. Shiro walked over to the kitchen table with two steaming mugs grasped in each hand, placing one down before Lance, the Paladin gave him a grateful nod as he reached out for the mug, blew on the steaming liquid to cool it down, and took a small sip. Lance’s brows shot up as the familiar taste of a similar drink danced upon the surface of his tongue.

“Is this hot chocolate?”

Shiro nodded, taking his own sip from his own mug, a small smile ghosting across his lips. “Just don’t ask me how I made this. You wouldn’t want to know.” He said with a small chuckle that seemed to hover on his face for a few seconds before melting away to be replaced by a more serious look. “Lance.”

Cocking a brow in his direction, Lance responded, “yea?”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting these past few months. You know snapping at you and just well...not really acting as a leader to you...or even a friend.”

Shoulder’s slumping, guilt started to creep into Lance as he pursed his lips, setting his own mug down on the table. “Shiro, it’s fine. You’ve been under a lot of—”

Shaking his head sharply, cutting Lance off, Shiro frowned at Lance’s words. “It’s not  _ fine _ , Lance. I behaved in a way that you deserve an apology for. I was in the wrong, so I’m admitting to it. How I’ve been behaving is wrong and you don’t deserve to take the brunt of it or even have how you’re feeling dismissed.”

Staring into the contents of his mug, Lance looked slightly perturbed at Shiro’s acknowledgment. “What’s suddenly brought all of this on?”

Shrugging his shoulders, there was a look of contemplation that swept over Shiro’s face. “I just felt the need to apologize for my shitty behavior. I know everyone on the ship looks up to me, but that doesn’t mean that everything I do or say shouldn’t be questioned every now and then.” Nodding, Lance felt the tension in his shoulders slightly ebbing out of him as Shiro took a sip from his still steaming mug. Pulling the mug away from his lips, he voiced out a question that had seemed to be plaguing his mind for quite some time. “Now, what’s the real reason behind you being up so late at night? Hunk made a passing mention about you not sleeping as much lately. Is something bothering you, Lance?”

“I—” Lance began, his tongue darting out from between his lips to wet them. What should he say? He didn’t exactly want to tell Shiro about his night terrors or the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in his own skin. He wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about what was going on, not with himself, not with Lotor, and definitely not with Shiro. Instead, he forced himself to talk about what was truly bogging down his mind. “—have a friend. They’re struggling to figure out some stuff right now.”

“Oh?” Shiro said, cocking one of his eyebrows up as he gave off some serious dad vibes. “Like what?”

“Their sexuality. They don’t know whether they like guys or girls or….they just don’t know who they are right now. And now they’re even more confused because they just got kissed by a guy recently.”

Shiro hummed in acknowledgment, idly tapping his thumb against the edge of his mug. “I would tell that friend that sexuality is a roller coaster; they shouldn’t worry too much about their own sexuality. If they feel something fits them then they’ll know, if they don’t there shouldn’t be any rush to try and figure out who they are.”

For some reasons those words gave Lance more solace than he would have found hold up in his own room with his thoughts for company. With that new solace, Lance found himself shooting up from his seat, his brain running at a thousand miles per hour. It startled Shiro who was staring at Lance as if he’d just witness a space ghost appear in the kitchen and flip him off. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere important.” Lance lightly tossed out without glancing back over his shoulder at Shiro. “I’ll see you later though, dad, thanks for the hot cocoa.”

Brows scrunching up together, there was a sheepish grin that tugged at the edge of Shiro’s lips as he lifted his mug up to them. “Did he just call me dad?”

Lance raced through the castle halls until reaching the tower that held Red. Climbing up to the cockpit, he briefly thought about sending out a message to announce his arrival beforehand but decided it should be a surprise. Powering up Red, he slipped out of the castle and enjoyed the nearly hour-long journey to Galra central commandship, without a Teludav the journey to the commandship was much longer than Lance was used to, but it gave him a good amount of time to formulate what he planned on saying as well as a chance to just idly admire the planets and space around him. It had always been his dream to fly into space, admire the stars and planets around him that he had only gotten to see on screens during the dozens of courses he had to take at the Garrison. 

There was some inkling of him that had known, he wasn’t the best cadet at the Garrison if he was lucky he’d be stationed at some low-level job on Earth, but this—getting to be out in space in an alien ship—was something he’d never even have dreamed of.

Finally, the commandship and the fleet of ships that always surrounded it came into view. Guiding his Lion into the hull of the ship, he got out of it and navigated his way through the ship with some ease after having made the trip here with the others multiple times at this point. It didn’t take him long to find Lotor in his personal study, his hair pulled back into a high ponytail as he flicked through some data and schematics on the datapad that rested on his desk.

At the sound of the door opening and someone stepping into the study, Lotor lifted his head, his eyebrows raising in mild surprise at the sight of Lance. “Lance? It’s a little late to be here, isn’t it?” Lotor’s eyes shifted to the door behind Lance. “Where are the other Paladins?” His gaze shifted to the pajamas that Lance was wearing, the corner of his lips quirking up in amusement. “I’m going to take it that you came here by yourself. Is this for a more duty based reason—” He paused, cocking his head to the side as his eyes narrowed, “—or more personal?” The word rumbled off his tongue with a soft purr.

“It’s for a more personal reason,” Lance responded, his cheeks pinkening as he watched Lotor nod, tap at his datapad and rise from his seat.

“I still have work to do, but if you wouldn’t mind, Lance, I’d like for you to accompany me somewhere.”

Intrigued by the sudden proposition, Lance accepted and followed Lotor out of the study and back to the hull of the commandship, the both of them getting into Lotor’s Sincline ship and taking off into the cavernous expanse of space. “Where are we going?” Lance asked after some time had passed as Lotor kept his eyes trained on the navigational map before him. Lotor merely turned his head in Lance’s direction, a smile on his lips and shards of light in his eyes. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”

They traveled for quite some distance, to a distant corner of the quadrant they were in. In the distance, Lance could see a rather large planet that was the color of red velvet. Splotches of purple vegetation littered the planet as Lotor guided the ship to it and landed them down on the planet’s surface. Tall purple trees with snaking, luminescent vines wrapped around their trunks surrounded him, along with other purple foliage. 

“What is this?” Lance whispered as he stepped out of the ship, breathing in a lungful of fresh oxygen laced air. The Galra Emperor merely smiled at the question as he pulled up his datapad and glanced at the trees. The trees were easily as tall a skyscraper back on Earth, walking up to one of the thick trees, Lotor rapped his knuckles against it as he turned to face Lance. “These trees take in carbon dioxide and convert it into oxygen. The very stuff you and I are breathing in right now.” Pointing at the luminescent vines that were wrapped around the trunks of the tree, Lotor continued on. “The vines take in the carbon dioxide and feed it into the tree with the tree leaves pumping out the oxygen into the atmosphere around us.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Lance chuckled at the new discovery. “Pidge would have a field day if she could see this right now.” Walking up to one of the trees, Lance reached out and stroked its trunk before staring at Lotor. “Why are you doing this though? I would suspect the entirety of the Galra empire’s technology would be focused on finding sufficient avenues to harvesting Quintessence without harming a planet, local ecosystems, or cultures?”

Brows shooting up at the words that fumbled from Lance’s mouth, Lotor had a wide grin stretching across his face. Sweeping his arm in a wide arc, he spoke, “You’re looking at the new home planet of the Galra.” Hand coming up to cup at his chin, Lotor casually remarked, “Though I did have to murder the indigenous population for the planet.” Face going pale, Lance looked rather taken aback by Lotor’s words, only for the emperor to laugh and placate Lance by reaffirming that his words were merely a joke. “Conquering a planet isn’t exactly my style. This planet was uninhabited when I found it and I’ve simply ordered my best scientists to terraform the planet.”

“Why are you doing this?” Confusion laced its way into Lance’s words. There was worry there too, of course, anyone would be worried if they were in his position. Though Lotor had good intentions in him, there was worry sometimes in the way he wished to go about achieving them. “Haven’t the Galra already made homes on several planets that Emperor Zarkon conquered? What’s the need for terraforming another planet just to house citizens?”

“For centuries we conquered other planets, due to my father’s hatred against King Alfor for the loss of our home planet Daibazaal. We never truly put down roots when we had the means to do so and instead floated aimlessly through space without a home of our own. Instead, I plan to terraform this planet and make it a home for my people.” There was hope radiating from Lotor’s words. Hope and optimism wrapped up in a neat little bundle that he presented to the Paladin. “In a few weeks, there will be enough oxygen on the planet that we can begin constructing a few homes for a good number of people to test out living on the planet. Of course, there’s a few things that we need to solidify such as creating a sustainable system to harvest resources such as food and water. But Lance—” He turned toward Lance. “—there’s going to be life on this planet.”

Chuckling, Lance pointed a finger at Lotor. “Maybe after that’s done, you could maybe make a side note in your plan’s to make a nice, big castle.”

At Lance’s words, a contemplative look swept over the emperor’s face as if he was debating his next choice of words. Shaking his head, he crossed the distance that separated him from Lance and reached out taking the Paladin’s hand in his own. Lifting it up until the back of Lance’s knuckles were near his mouth, he leaned forward, lips brushing against the bare skin of Lance’s knuckles, as he whispered words that made Lance’s heart melt into a puddle of jelly. “Hopefully a castle you would be willing to call your home as well?”

With a nervous laugh, Lance pulled his hand away from Lotor’s grasp. “We can talk about that when we’ve—” His words died in his throat, unsaid, but Lotor was able to grasp the meaning of the sentence anyway.  _ When we’ve been together a little longer; when we’ve gone on several dates; when we’ve decided to build a life together _ . There were depths to those unsaid words that even Lotor could understand.

Clearing his throat, Lance stepped away from the emperor, circling his way around the trunk of a tree, he pressed his hand against the rough bark, his fingertips brushing against the vines. When he circled around the tree, coming to stand in front of Lotor again, he patted the trunk of the tree. “All of this is beautiful.” 

Clasping his hands behind his back, the silver-haired Galra smiled at the Paladin. “Have you had a chance to reflect on everything?”

He nodded, “I have. I’ve had some time to do some  _ reflecting. _ But I do have some questions though. Are you interested in men?”

A chuckle tore itself from the confines of Lotor’s throat. “Lance, I’ve lived for a little over 10,000 years. I would say that from the numerous  _ dalliances  _ I’ve had that I’m more comfortable with who or what I chose to take into my bed.”

A little more than galvanized at Lotor’s choice of words, Lance filed it away into the back of his brain and vowed never in his lifetime to tell Lotor that his words on this particular occasion had riled him up in a manner that had Lance desiring to shove his head into a freezer. “Do you like me then?”

“You intrigue—”

“No,” Lance replied curtly with the single word and a shake of his head. “Do you  _ like  _ me? Like are you interested in courting me and stuff?”

Narrowing his eyes at Lance’s words, Lotor raised a single brow. “Are you interested in knowing if I’ll perform Galra courtship rituals toward you?”

That had a laugh bubbling to Lance’s lips, causing him to wipe tears from the corner of his eyes. “I’m new to all of this. Back on Earth, we usually just take people out on dates to show them that you’re interested in them. A moment where two individuals will go out, maybe watch a movie or get dinner together to get to know each other and that sort of thing.” Lance explained.

“That’s one thing that makes humans seem indistinguishable between the Galra and Alteans.”

“Oh?” Lance replied with interest. “What makes Galra or Altean courtships rituals so similar to the human concept of dating?”

“Well,” the emperor whispered, with each passing breath he grew closer and closer to Lance, his hands outstretched as Lance settled his own hands into Lotor’s empty ones. “The Altean’s had a very interesting ritual of creating meaningful objects for the ones they wished to romance. Synthesizing the DNA to create new flowers or precious jewels was fairly common. For the Galra, it was more typically to explore other planets, find precious jewels or minerals and form it into jewelry to give to the one you wanted to court. My own father had once made a precious bracelet for my mother. It was made of pesnite, an incredibly tough and durable metal, with ruby red, blue, and green jewels that shined as brightly as the stars. From what I heard, my mother cherished that piece of jewelry more than her own life.” 

“That sounds interesting, maybe you should make one for me when we get past our first date.” Lance joked, a shiver racing up his spine as Lotor brushed a thumb against his knuckles.

“Then would this be considered our first date?”

A blush rose to the surface of his cheeks. “I don’t know. I guess it would be if we both consider it so.”

“Then I consider this to be our first date.”

That had Lance chuckling, wondering if Lotor would never have a moment where he was always this cool and suave. “All of this is new to me, and I can’t help but admit that I’m a little worried since all I’ve ever dated before you—all I’ve ever been interested in before you—were women.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lotor continued to run his thumb over Lance’s knuckles reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. We can take this as slow as you want—as you need to.”

“That would be...appreciated,” Lance whispered, a smile stretching across his face as he stared down at where his hand rested in Lotor’s palm. His own giddiness and excitement at the prospect of this relationship was boundless as the silver-haired Galra lifted Lance’s hand to brush his lips against his knuckles once more.

  
  


Reclined back against couches in the lounge, Lance smiled at the datapad he grasped in his hands. Lotor’s smiling face peering down at him as the two talked about how the majority of their day went. “You should have seen Hunk, he really took what Dayak taught him and really applied it when he was yelling at those two officers. It was equally parts hilarious and inspiring to watch.” 

“I knew Dayak would be a benefit to Hunk.”

Laughter spilled out into the lounge. “Are you sure you just didn’t want Dayak to show us embarrassing baby pictures of you?”

Rolling his eyes, the Galra let out a scoff of incredulity. “I’ll have you know there are no embarrassing childhood photos of me that exist. Dayak may have been my nanny, but she was nothing like a mother to me.” The stark coldness of Lotor’s words had Lance frowning as it once again settled into the fiber of his being that Lotor’s childhood was not one that he wished upon any child to experience.

“How’s the new home planet coming along?”

“It’s been far exceeding the expectations I had set for it. Preparations on constructing homes for the citizens we’re planning on settling down on the planet for a trial run have been completed. So before you know it, there’ll be Galra living on the planet.” Lips parting to reveal teeth and gums, a single yawn from Lotor had the two of them ending their video chat early enough for the two of them to rest.

“So, heard that you and Lotor had a d-a-t-e the other day.”

Glancing up at the sudden intrusion of a new voice, Lance let out a sharp yelp as Matt’s face hovered above where he was reclined. “Who told you?”

“No one,” Matt huffed as if the answer was as plain as day. “But you just did. Although I did hear that you and Lotor visited an uninhabited planet that a certain someone is terraforming? And I’m wondering if said person needs any help in terraforming the planet? I mean, it's undoubtedly leagues beyond anything the Earth is currently capable of, but—”

Rolling his eyes, Lance chuckled a little at Matt’s rambling speech. “I’ll ask Lotor if you and Pidge can help out with the planet. He’s planning to bring it up at the next Coalition meeting anyway, so I can ask him then.”   
  


The door to the lounge hissed open, Allura walking in with her hair down in that loose wave that it had been when Lance first had laid eyes on her. Her own eyes darted between Matt and Lance, curiosity burning behind them. “Lance...can we talk?”

Glancing between the two of them, Matt raised his hands as if to say he wanted nothing to do with whatever clearly had transpired between them. “This looks personal, so I’m going to see myself out.” 

Matt left leaving the two of them behind. Breathing out a spent sigh, Lance motioned to the lounge seats around him. “We can talk.”

Making her way to a seat opposite from Lance, Allura looked equal parts sheepish and guilty as if she knew she was in the wrong. “Lance, listen, I know that our relationship has been strained since—”

“You guys all decided to trade Lotor over to Zarkon the moment the deal was offered?”

There was a small wince on her face as if the incident was as fresh as a new wound. “Yes. I know that I may seem naive and idealistic and at first, I really hated Lotor. I hated everything he did and I suppose I let my awful memories of Zarkon cloud any judgment I made concerning Lotor and the Galra as a whole. But I’m slowly trying to work around that. Working with the Galra and the Blades of Marmora are still changing my opinion and forcing me to see things in a new light and not from the scarred memories that haunt me.” She sighed, lowering her head slightly, she tilted it back up and Lance could see the shimmering of tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll change overnight, but I’m slowly trying. I just don’t want you to hate me.”

A sympathetic pang bored its way into Lance’s heart. He knew he was justified in not talking to Allura, being pissed at everyone on his team for the way they treated Lotor in the past, but he wasn’t the type to hold grudges forever. Threading his fingers through his hair, Lance sighed, “I would never hate you, Allura. Yea, sometimes the stuff that you say or do bugs me, but it’s never going to make me hate you. We’re still friends and nothing’s ever going to change that.”

A lopsided grin stretched across her face as she sniffled, reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Glancing away from Lance’s face, the next words she spoke nearly had him choking on the very air itself.  “So...how was your trip with Lotor?”

Blinking rapidly in surprise, he turned his gaze on her. “Is it that obvious? How many people know?”

A chuckle bubbled out of Allura’s throat. “Only I, Pidge, Matt, Shiro, and Coran know.”

Groaning, he slapped a hand over his face. “Great, so nearly all of the team except for two.” His hand slid down to cover the grin that stretched across his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” The grin on her face morphed into a contemplative frown. “Nothing too bad could happen anyway.”

“Nothing too bad?”

Allura’s shoulders rose and fell, her mouth twisting into a look of uncertainty. “The worst that could happen is Coran talks to him.”

 

Aboard the commandship, Lotor and Coran were hunched over a bunch of data that the Galra emperor needed the older Altean’s input on. Fingers tapping away at data and several schematics, the emperor only lifted his head at the sound of Coran clearing his throat. 

“Is something wrong?” Lotor asked, genuinely believing that he’d done something or something had been done for Coran to glare at him as if he wished Lotor’s head exploded before him.

“Lotor, I may not be much of a fighter,” Coran began. “But I was King Alfor’s friend and closest confidant, so as a result, he taught me a thing or two. If you hurt Lance in any manner, shape or form, I will personally lace your food with the eggs of a Thavun worm, watch it slowly eat through your major organs until you’re nothing more than a husk of a corpse, shove your dead body out of an airlock and watch your corpse float through the empty, cold expanse of space.” 

Unbidden, a smirk worked its way across Lotor’s face. “Really? I thought you would threaten to slit my throat.”

Doors sliding apart, various members of the Blade of Marmora and the Paladins of Voltron entered the room. Lance’s gaze darted between Lotor and Coran. “What’s going on?”

Flashing a smile in Lance’s direction, Lotor made his way over to him. “Coran and I were simply having a...discussion.” Reaching out, Lotor grasped the Paladin’s hand and attempted to lean down to kiss his knuckles, but Lance jerked his hand out of the emperor’s grasp with a nervous laugh and instead patted Lotor on the back, earning him a very bewildered look. Lotor didn’t have much time to question Lance about his strange behavior but instead turned to address the members of the Blade of Marmora as well as reiterate their needs to go over their plans and other important things that needed to be discussed before the upcoming Coalition dinner.

A long, oval table rose from the floor that they all seated themselves around. Feeling a burning gaze upon his face, Lance turned to see Keith staring suspiciously at him and Lotor. He groaned. This was going to be a long meeting.

 

Once the meeting had ended, Lance had snuck away from the other members of Team Voltron and made his way to Lotor’s quarters. It took quite a while, seeing as he was certain Lotor hadn’t made any mentions to the other Galra about his...courting of Lance. So he had to take some rather unusual methods to make his way to Lotor’s quarters.

_ Sliding into the hallway, like a crab, Lance waved his hands in front of his face as two Galra sentries shared a glance with one another. “You see nothing.” Lance proclaimed in a shaky voice like those old-time horror movies that his sister, Veronica loved. “I’m definitely not heading in the direction of any personal quarters.” For good measure, Lance let out a long and slow whooo sound as he slinked down the hall. _

Standing in front of Lotor’s door, he rapped his knuckles against the hard metal. “Come in,” Lotor’s silky, smooth voice slightly muffled from the thick metal of the door called out to him.

The door parted, allowing Lance to step into an antechamber with two doors attached to it that obviously lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. The antechamber was well decorated, with a good sized couch that had plush cushions strewn about it. There was a large, oval window facing the couch that gave anyone sitting there a good view of the planets that lazily passed by. Exotic vegetations and potted planets lined the room, Lotor was seated upon a smaller chair that was near the couch, turned at an angle that he had a view of the door. If his nose wasn’t stuffed between the pages of a thick book.

Glancing up, Lotor seemed surprised to see Lance in his antechamber. Walking over to the couch, Lance flopped down on it, causing the cushions to bounce. “I’m sorry,” he said, giving the emperor very little chance to ask him what had brought him to his antechamber.

“For what?” He asked, pulling his nose from his book, snapping it shut, and raising a brow in Lance’s direction.

“For acting weird back there.” Lance motioned vaguely in the direction of the door, referring to his actions earlier where he’d yank his hand from Lotor’s grasp. “I just found out that everyone besides Keith and Hunk knows about us,” he motioned between the two of them with a single finger. “So it feels weird with the public PDA when some of my team members don’t know and I’m certain none of the Galra know about us or our relationship.”

“Would you like me to tell my people? Because I’m willing to do so if that’s what you wish.”

“No,” Lance laughed. “I think I’m more comfortable if people didn’t know for a while.”

“I suppose, however, the knowledge of our relationship is why Coran threatened to murder me this morning if I hurt you.”

The shock of Lotor’s words had Lance sitting up straight. “What!? Coran threatened to kill you!?” 

“Yes,” The Galra replied offhandedly as if he didn’t view the threat from the older Altean with a sense of trepidation that Lance did. “It was rather endearing.”

Letting out a long groan, Lance sunk back into the couch with a really dumb grin upon his face. It caused Lotor to laugh, leaning forward, he placed his book on the coffee table in front of him and stood up. Walking the short distance before he seated himself down on the couch beside Lance. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he pressed the cool leather against Lance’s cheek and stroked the smooth flesh with his thumb, leaving a trail of warmth across Lance’s cheek. 

“You know,” Lance whispered, “I preferred to tell your team members that we were in a relationship. But it’s nice that they know.” 

“It is.” The emperor whispered back as he leaned in close and captured Lance’s lips in his own. The Paladin sighed into the kiss, his whole body felt like a ball of fire as Lotor’s thumb continued to stroke his cheek. He never wanted to be tired of kissing Lotor as the emperor’s other hand reached out to cup the outside of his thigh. Lotor’s tongue traced across the flesh of his lower lip, leaving behind a trail of fire in his wake. He felt like an unbloomed flower beneath Lotor’s fingers. Their tongues met, Lotor dragging his own around the cavern of Lance’s mouth, leaving behind a trail of sweet, savory aftertaste. The reminded him of fruit tarts. Pulling back from the kiss, Lotor pressed his forehead against Lance’s own. “I have an idea.”

“About what?” Lance laughed, “did making out with me somehow give you an idea?”

“It gave me an idea about our second date.”

Cocking his eyebrow in intrigue, Lance couldn’t help but ask the question on his mind. “So what’s this great idea of yours?”

Shaking his head, Lotor leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the tip of Lance’s nose. “What’s that Earthling phrase that’s so incredibly common? That’s for me to determine and you to find out later.”

Unable to help bursting out in laughter, Lance clapped his hand against his mouth as hiccuping laughs spilled from his lips and tears sprung in the corner of his eyes at Lotor’s butchering of a common Earth phrase. “Okay, okay, then I guess I’ll see you for our second date?”

“You’ll see me for our second date.” 

“Good,” Lance murmured as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Lotor’s cheek. “I can’t wait.”   
  


 

Their date was a trip to the space mall. Which Lance found quite endearing, considering he wasn’t being chased around by mall cops because of his wanted status within the Galra Empire. However, the good mood of his date didn’t help to quell the pout that was on his face as he walked a few paces behind the members of his team with Lotor walking beside him.

“I thought when you said we’d be having our second date,” Lance whispered so that his teammates couldn’t hear, “it’d just be the two of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Lotor chuckled. “When I simply mentioned that you would be helping me with some business your friends decided to tag along. But I’m sure we can somehow salvage this.”

“I hope,” Lance muttered as the group made their way to the food court where Hunk was determined to get everyone to eat at Vrepit Sal.

Sal seemed ecstatic to see Hunk once they all came in to view. “Buddy!” Sal shouted, rushing out of his shop, and navigating between the long line leading away from his shop to pull Hunk into a bear crushing hug that lifted the Yellow Paladin off of his feet. Setting Hunk back down, Sal punched the huskier Paladin in his shoulder, cheerfully. “Without you, my business would have never seen such a huge increase in profits. Tell you what, you and your friends can eat whatever you like off the menu. Free of charge of course.”

Eyes shining at the prospect of a free meal, Hunk shook his head vigorously. “I couldn’t do that to you, Sal, at least let us pay.”

Refusing to take no for an answer, Sal was persistent. “No. No, friend of mine is going to pay for a meal so long as he eats here. Especially not on a vacation.”

“Oh!” Hunk perked up, “well we’re not really on a vacation of sorts.” He paused, cupping his chin and drawing his shoulders in contemplation. “Well I mean it could be, but it’s actually supposed to be my buddy Lance and Lotor’s date—” Eyes widening as if he had just dropped the schematics for the Castle-ship in enemy’s hands, Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth.

Pidge, the closest one to him, aimed a sharp punch at Hunk’s ribs. “Hunk!” Pidge hissed sharply, “it was supposed to be a secret!”

“You guys know I can’t keep a secret!” Hunk bemoaned. “I’m like a ticking time bomb.”

Eyes narrowing, Lance lifted his hands and placed them in front of him, his palms pointing outwards as he blinked in incredulity. “Wait, you guys knew this was a date?” 

Hunk popped up near Lance, leaning in close to him with a hand held beside his mouth as he whispered in Lance’s direction. “Dude. I’m so sorry, but Keith was really suspicious—and I mean really suspicious—about you and Lotor going to the mall alone together. He was going to follow you, but everyone else was going to feel bad if you saw Keith tailing you guys so we just made it a group trip.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lance drew in a sharp breath as Keith’s gaze darted between him and Lotor. “Wait, you two are dating?”

“ _ Pinga cojone! _ ” Lance breathed out. “Keith. Can we talk? Alone.” 

Nodding, Keith followed Lance as he lead them off to a fountain that was some feet away from the food court. It was still in view of the others, but it was far enough that it gave them the privacy to just talk. “Dude, what’s the deal?” Lance asked Keith, cutting directly to the chase.

The fountain behind them gurgled as a stream of water shot into the air. Nearby a child tossed a gold coin into the fountain as their parent tugged them along.

Sitting on the edge of the fountain, Keith threw his arms up into the air, frustration, and concern laced into his words. “Am I the only one concerned about this? I get it we’re all warming up to Lotor and getting to see that he’s not as bad as we once assumed, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you were held captive aboard his ship nearly a year ago, he tortured you, and you’re now dating him? Lance, you can’t tell me that that isn’t messed up.”

Lance rolled his eyes, not exactly dismissing Keith’s concerns, but feeling just slightly annoyed at the entire manner. Sure dating Lotor might seem like a bad idea to an outside viewer, but he knew what Lotor was capable of, he knew Lotor better than anyone here. “Technically, Keith. He had his general torture me with her psychic powers, but then she did open the airlock for me to escape—”

“Wait, what?” Keith’s eyes were dark with anger, an unbridled rage that had Keith’s head snapping in the direction of Lotor and if it weren’t for Lance reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder Keith probably would have been tossed out of the mall and charged with harming an emperor.

“Keith,” Lance sighed, a bundle of nerves throbbing in his forehead, “you don’t know what really happened to me aboard that ship—”

“Because you won’t tell anyone what happened to you!” Keith bit back. “You pretend you’re okay; that you walked away from that situation unscathed, yet you won’t tell anyone what happened aboard that ship. Not since you showed us your scars and mentioned some Galra named Zorak, you haven’t told anyone what truly happened aboard that ship.”

So that’s what Lance did, he sat down and poured out every little detail to Keith about what truly happened aboard that ship. How Lotor tried to coax information out of him, but had failed, and instead had sent Zorak in Lotor’s place to try and extract information from the Paladin. How Zorak’s torture methods had been...nightmarish and excruciating, how he would taunt Lance over and over that none of his teammates were coming to save him. How he would die aboard that ship for the mere pleasure it would have gotten him. The nights were Lotor would come to his cell and give him a healing salve to get rid of the worst of his wounds; the Lotor that poured his heart and soul into Lance’s laps as tears spilled from his eyes as he recanted stories of his youthhood. He told Keith every little dirty detail even as his mouth ran dry and his eyes went glassy as he was struggling to block off the memories even as they fell unbidden into his lap. He told Keith of the escape, of how one of Lotor’s generals had snuck into his cell and given him his Bayard, of how he thought he was going to die when Zorak had him pinned up against the wall, but to his surprise, Lotor had come and saved him by murdering Zorak. Keith’s eyes widened at that part. He told his story up until the very moment he had escaped the ship in Red and met up with the rest of the team.

When Lance was finished, Keith said nothing for quite some time, taking a moment to process all of the information.

“Please don’t tell anyone else.” Lance breathed out quietly. “I don’t want them to know until I’m ready.”

“I won’t tell them.” They fell back into silence again, Keith didn’t quite know what to say, but Lance spoke up before he could.

“Do you know what I realized when I was aboard that ship? That I hated myself because I wasn’t as strong as you or Shiro.”

“Lance—” Lance cut him off with a single shake of his head.

“Just hear me out. Do you know why when we were in the garrison together, I held that stupid one-sided rivalry with you? I still did even when we were in space together. I guess I hated myself; hated that you had what I wanted so I made up that dumb one-sided rivalry to feel better about myself.” Lance snorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he cleared the growing tightness in his throat.

There was a bittersweet smile that stretched across Keith’s face as he punched Lance in his shoulder, causing the Paladin to wince and rub at the space on his shoulder where Keith’s fist had made contact with his flesh. “Lance, you’ll always be my rival, but if Lotor is forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do I’ll kill him if that’s the case.”

A sharp laugh ripped itself from Lance’s lips, causing Keith’s brows to quirk upward. “Coran already beat you to that punch, he already threatened to kill Lotor in order to defend my honor.” Keith looked as shocked as Lance was when he first heard about it. “Don’t worry though. Everyone has my back if Lotor ever hurts me, but Lotor and I are taking our relationship slow and on our own individual terms. We have a lot of personal and shared issues to work through, but we’re happy.”

“Well,” Keith replied gruffly, “if Coran isn’t able to murder Lotor...I’ll break his legs.”

Letting out a snort, Lance reached over and patted the half-Galra’s shoulder, “Thanks, Keith.”

Moving away from the fountain, they returned where the rest of the group where. They were all seated at a long table, piles of food resting atop of it, no doubt a courtesy from Sal. Hunk looked absolutely in heaven as he dug into a strange purple dish with gold flecks sprinkled throughout it. “How was the talk?” the Yellow Paladin asked around a mouthful of food, swallowing it down, his used his fork to motion between Lance and Keith.

“Everything’s good now,” Lance replied as he watched Lotor stand from the seat he was in, walk over to him and pull Lance close enough to him so that he could brush his lip’s against the Paladin’s cheek.

A loud groan from Shiro had everyone snapping their head in the direction of the Black Paladin. Clutching the side of his head, beads of sweat dripped down Shiro’s skin, grinding his teeth together, his entire body shuddered in pain. 

“Shiro, are you okay?” Allura stood up from her seat and reached out to touch Shiro’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Shiro ground out, waving his hand in a shooing motion to dismiss the concern of his friends. “I think I just need to rest a little.”

Allura frowned, not seeming convinced that Shiro was the least bit okay. “...if you’re sure.” She finally said after much consideration.

Pidge swiveling around in her seat to stare at Lance, rolling her eyes so far that it almost seemed like she could see her brain, she made a motion of shooing Lance away from the table. “Why don’t the two lovebirds get out of here, since we are technically ruining their date and all.” She jabbed a finger in their direction. “I especially don’t want to see you two tongue—” Matt clapped a hand over his little sister’s mouth, a glare scorching enough to melt a thousand suns aimed in her direction before Matt glanced in the direction of the couple. 

“I think what my little sister means to say is that you two have fun on your date.”

Glaring at her brother from the corner of her eyes, Pidge mumbled loudly behind the hand covering her mouth. The sounds coming from her vaguely reminded Lance of a string of curses.

“Okay, if you guys insist,” Lance mumbled, as he turned to Lotor and laced his fingers through the emperor’s own.

As they walked away from the food court, Lance turned his head at the sound of Matt shouting, “Did you just lick my hand!?” His eyes darted to Shiro who was still clutching his head, teeth grinding as he winced from the severity of the migraine he was experiencing.

He didn’t know why, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut that something quite was right. A feeling he couldn’t shake off, but he prayed that he was wrong.   
  


 

Glowing eggplant colored eyes narrowed as the figure carefully watched the scene before them. There was a smirk on Lotor’s face as he leaned forward to brush his lips against the cheek of the Blue Paladin.

The door behind the figure hissed open as the lavender portal they were viewing the scene from blinked out of existence. The figure didn’t turn to acknowledge the pale indigo-haired half-Galra that stepped into the room. Warily Acxa stared at the empty space where the portal had been just mere moments before. “You needed me?” She questioned, though from her tone of voice it seemed more of a statement.

“Yes,” the figure hissed slowly with displeasure as they finally turned to take in Acxa’s form. Acxa kept her eyes focused on the figure as the shadows of their cloak stretched and thinned to reveal the all too familiar face of Haggar. “I have a call that I need you to make for me.” She hissed as the face of the Blue Paladin flashed in her mind and a cruel grin stretched across her features.   
  



	17. Everything Isn't as It Seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took an extra two days working/writing on this chapter for various reasons:
> 
> 1) It ended up coming out longer than I expected it to be.  
> 2) I realized I'm incredibly rusty when it comes to writing smut so I took my time making sure it had some flow to it and didn't seem too out of character.  
> 3) You know that feeling when the characters just take over the chapter? Well, Lance and Lotor did just that and I took some time making sure that a lot of their interaction with each other and others felt like it was a part of canon and could be a thing in the actual show.
> 
> Without further ado, I give you this smut filled chapter.

Lips curving down into a frown, Lance tapped the interface of his datapad once more. The screen displaying a dialing symbol on the screen until it was replaced with a red flashing phone symbol that told him his call hadn’t reached its intended target. Huffing, he tossed his datapad to the other corner of his bed as he flopped down onto his pillows. It’d been weeks since he last saw Lotor in person and their video and call communications had become shorter in recent days. It frustrated him to no end, he knew with their respective positions in this whole entire war that seemed every day closer and closer to coming to an end, that they wouldn’t have much free time as they both would like to communicate or even see one another. But it felt like Lotor was actively trying to avoid him. Frustrated by this to no end, Lance sat up in his bed, swinging his feet over the edge and quickly tugging on a pair of socks and his shoes. He stood up from the bed, tossing on his coat over his pajamas, he left his room and made his way to the tower that held Red.

Resigning himself to going to see Lotor if the emperor wasn’t communicating with him, Red’s maw was wide open, ready for him to climb aboard when Lance heard a shout behind him. Turning, he was slightly surprised to see Allura, dressed in her own pajamas, her hair loose and flowing behind her back with a flustered look smeared all over her face. “What are you doing?” She chuckled nervously, her eyes flitting from Red to a very confused Lance.

Hooking his thumb over his shoulder as if the answer was blatantly obvious, he quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “I’m going to visit Lotor. Are you okay though?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, despite the smile plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes. “It’s just that the rest of the team was planning on having a movie night and wanted to know if you were free to join? Hunk is even making a snack called popcorn?” Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar pronunciation on her lips.

“I’ll be gone for an hour at most,” he said in an effort to reassure her, keenly aware that something else was going on that she wasn’t mentioning. “But I can come back and join everyone.” He turned his back to her with a finality, attempting to board Red, but Allura called out to him.

“Lance, wait!”

Turning back around to face her, confusion was painted all over his face. “Allura, seriously is everything okay?”

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she huffed, “Quiznak.” Sighing she shook her head. “Lance, look you can’t go to see Lotor right now.”

Brows creasing together, Lance took a single step away from Red, then another and another until he was standing in front of Allura and gripping her shoulders. “...Allura, do you know something that I don’t?”

Sighing yet again, Allura pressed a hand over her face, mumbling all the meanwhile. “I am never doing him a favor ever again. Lotor doesn’t want to see you right now because he believes there’s a mole.”

“What!” Lance jerked back away from her, his face scrunching up as if she had just slapped him in the face. “Why?”

She crooked a finger in his direction and motioned for him to come closer. He complied, she dropped her voice to barely a whisper. “Lotor received some information that there is currently a bounty out for your life.”

His mouth went dry as he uttered words that he never thought he would in his lifetime. “Someone’s trying to kill me?”

Allura nodded looking equally as upset as Lance that someone was out in space, hunting him down, and waiting for the right moment to strike him down all because someone had placed a monetary worth upon his life.

“How much am I worth though?” He asked, trying to make light of the entire situation. “Please tell me my life is at least worth more than Keith’s.”

Rolling her eyes, Allura shook her head as a smirk curved across the features of her face. “Lotor didn’t want to say anything to you about it.” She burgeoned on. “He didn’t want to freak you out with the information and the only people who know about this whole ordeal is you, myself, and Coran.”

“Yea, well I’m freaking out about this plenty enough,” Lance muttered to himself. His voice rising by a few decibels as he stared at Allura. “I’ll join you and the rest of the team in a bit. I have a call I need to make.”

Allura nodded as she watched him leave the tower. Rushing to his room, Lance snatched up his datapad as he sat down on the edge of his bed, he tapped the screen and waited as the dialing signal appeared on his screen. It flashed for a few brusque seconds before being replaced by Lotor’s face, he looked like he normally did. There were no bags underneath his eyes that belayed that anything was wrong or that there was a hit out on Lance’s life. If anything, he seemed in the middle of work, Lance discerned from the floating screen containing dozens of open files next to him that Lotor waved a hand through as it fizzled out of existence. “Ah, Lance,” The Galra sounded surprised to see his face, the smooth timbre of his voice accompanied by the soft, smile upon his face. “Seeing you right now is a gift to all of the dull days—”

“As much as I love listening to that sexy, timbre of your voice, don’t sweet talk me right now.” Lance cut him off with a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me someone is trying to kill me?”

“Allura told you?” He asked with a resounding sigh.

“Allura told me.” 

“I didn’t want to tell you someone was trying to kill you for the exact reason that’s occurring right now. You’re worrying about it.”

“Lotor, of course, I’m going to worry about this!” Lance huffed, “there’s someone out there that’s trying to murder me!”

With a weary sigh, Lotor reached up, combing a hand through his long locks. “I have this entire situation under control. There’s no reason for you to worry about this and instead, I think you should put all of your focus on the upcoming Coalition dinner.”

“Why?”

A flirtatious smirk replaced whatever worry had sunken itself into Lotor’s bones. “Because I’m worried you’ll be the most captivating creature there.”

Cheeks going pink at the comment, Lance could do nothing but roll his eyes at the comment. “You giant flirt, tell me the real reason why.”

“The Coalition dinner is being held on a planet I’ve been advocating for weeks as being a non-negotiable non-option.”

At the rise of his brows, Lotor’s grin fell from his face. “Lance, there are millions of cultures and planets in the universe that don’t view Voltron the same way the Coalition does. For every planet that you’ve saved and that adores you there are plenty more out there that despise you and view Voltron’s presence as not one of peace, but terror.”

Lance knew that Lotor had brought this up on another occasion some time ago within a different context, but he feebly shook his head. “But we do good for the universe, at least we try to.”

There was a wry smile that curved across Lotor’s lips and empathy that burned in his eyes. “I know that you and Voltron try to, but in the eyes of some that perceived good for the universe to them is as evil as what you Paladins had originally thought all Galra were doing.” He continued, “I know I’ve brought up in the past that many ships that Voltron have attacked just didn’t contain Galra soldiers, but there were other cultures who actively fought on the Galra’s side and had their own family’s aboard our ships.”

“Oh,” Lance breathed out; the weight of Lotor’s words finally resting upon his shoulders.

“Rest, Lance, it’s getting late and I recommend you conserve your strength for this dinner.”

“You make it sound like it’s going to be a fight.”

That had a smile curving across the emperor’s lips. “You’d be surprised, politics can prove to be a far more difficult aspect of war than battles themselves.”

They both bid each other goodbye. As Lance reclined back on his bed, he wondered how much of Lotor’s own personal experiences made his words ring true. Pushing himself off of his bed and heading out to the lounge where he knew everyone else would be, he couldn’t keep himself from worrying about the up and coming dinner.

For the first time in his life, Lance wasn’t looking forward to a social event.

  
  


A few days had passed and before Lance or even the rest of his teammates knew it the occasion for the dinner had fallen upon them like flurries of snow, despite the earlier weather forecast advocating for a cloudy day with a few occasional thunderstorms. Sighing through his nose, Lance glanced out of the cockpit and at the sight of a burgeoning crowd that was blooming below.

“Are you guys ready to go?” Shiro’s voice crackled through the space of his cockpit as it undoubtedly was doing for the others.

“We might as well get this over with,” Pidge grumbled as Lance stood up from his seat to exit Red.

Everyone huddled down in the street below, waiting for Lotor who showed up a few seconds later with the Blade of Marmora who were accompanied by Keith. The emperor and Lance shared a look, before Lotor lifted a fist to clear his throat, his eyes sweeping over everyone there. “Shall we get a move on?”

Moving together as a group, none of them had time to admire the planet that they had neither seen nor heard of. Solleurus was a beautiful planet, with lush jungles that gave way to a thriving city. Three moons floated overhead the planet alongside the setting sun. They all walked into a crowded city, the road clear of people, whereas the sidewalks were sectioned off by thick white ropes that kept dozens of aliens off of the street. The large group walked nervously up the road, eyes darting from side to side as they took in the cheering crowds were clothing that contained Voltron’s colors, or caps made in the image of one of the Lions. Some held signs in their hands that depicted drawings of the Paladins, the Lions, or even Voltron. The opposition, however, held signs and shouted at the group that made Lance recoil, despite Lotor having given him warning in advance that there were people in the universe who held no love for Voltron or its Paladins. The rest of his teammates weren’t as well prepared for the situation as he was.

“Is that sign….calling us murders?” Hunk voiced aloud, it was meant to come off as a whisper, but the shock in his voice amplified his words enough that everyone could hear them.

Strange rotten fruit began to sail through the air, most of it splattered onto the street, but some made contact with the Paladins limbs. A rotten fruit that looked oddly similar to a tomato splattered against Keith’s hair that had him baring his teeth at the opposition crowd, many of them getting riled up by his hostile reaction. Kolivan reached out, placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and forced him to continue forward as any action or reaction that Keith or any of them would have would only result in hostility and heightened tensions to rise around them.

A cold, heavy weight settled on them all as Lotor ushered them along. A weight that they weren’t just saviors and warriors of peace in many’s eyes, but that they were also villains as well who equally had placed wounds in others hearts just as easily as they had placed hope and admiration.

“Don’t lament any of your actions,” Lotor’s voice rose above the din of the crowds. “War can never be boiled down to black versus white; good versus evil. We all commit actions that we think are for the overall good, but sometimes those actions have unintended consequences as well.”

It was a long journey to the building in which the dinner would take place. It was a magnificent building made of twisting wood and glass that was dazzling beneath the sunset that slowly sunk beneath the horizon. There were a few Olkari hanging around the infinity shaped fountain and blooming flowers that were artfully placed in front of the building along with a variety of alien species that belonged to the Coalition. All eyes turned upon them as they walked across the cobblestones. The leader of the Solleri, a rather larger bovid shaped alien with horns spiraling out of its head, painted in an array of colors and dressed head to toe in colorful, sheer fabric, walked on its hind hooves toward Lotor.

“Your most, venerable emperor!” The Solleri exclaimed as it reached out and grasped one of Lotor’s hands in its hooves. “I am Xemiri, the leader of Solleurus. Please, you and your guests must come in.”

They were all lead into the building by Xemiri, to a rather large room containing several balconies. The balcony windows were open letting in a cool breeze that also gave the guests an excellent view of luscious gardens below. 

“Please, take a seat, everyone.” Xemiri’s hooves motioned toward the long elaborate table that had been set up in the middle of the room.

Leaning close to Lotor, Lance stood on his toes so that his lips were remotely close to Lotor’s ears despite the height difference between them. “Is it bad that I can’t help but think of Earth cows at this moment?” He whispered into the Galra Emperor’s vicinity, earning him a soft laugh that had everyone’s gaze turning toward them and Lotor clearing his throat in a measure to make it seem as if he’d had something stuck in his throat.

They all took a seat around the table, with Lance stuck between Allura and Lotor, Coran was seated next to Allura’s empty side, Shiro sitting across from him with Hunk to his left and Pidge to his right. Matt was right beside his little sister and to his other side was Keith and the rest of the Blade of Marmora.

Other bovine shaped Solleri came into the room with empty glasses and bottles of drinks. Glasses were placed in front of them, bottles of a clear colored drink were poured into their glasses that carried with it a mixture of a scent that seemed like a combination of apple juice and champagne. Reaching out, Lance’s fingers were about to wrap around the thin stem of the glass when Lotor’s hand shot out, sliding the glass away from Lance’s fingers and replacing the Paladin’s drink with his own. Lance frowned at the gesture as Lotor leaned in close to him so that his lips were close to the Paladin’s ears. “A measure to make sure no one poisoned your glass.” Leaving Lance with no room to argue, Lotor tipped his head back slightly and took a sip from the glass. He stared at Lance out of the corners of his eyes, with a look that bade Lance to keep up appearances and take a sip from his own glass even if Lotor were to begin foaming from the mouth and writhing on the floor.

Reaching out, Lance grasped the stem of the glass between his fingers and brought the glass to his own lips, taking a small sip as if the less of the drink he consumed the fewer effects a potential poison would have on his body. The liquid slid across his tongue, leaving behind the sweet aftertaste of apple cider and champagne. Seconds passed by as Lance waited for, well anything to happen to him, when nothing did his shoulders slumped in relief as he took another sip from the glass and replaced it on the table.

Beside him Allura rose from her seat, clearing her throat as she did so. “Everyone, it is a pleasure to have such an occasion on Solleurus, hosted by the honorable Xemiri.” She motioned to their well decorated bovine host at the head of the table. “But despite such pleasant conditions there is much that needs to be discussed today, so shall we begin?” Sinking back down into her seat was a motion for the real reason behind this Coalition dinner to begin as the voices of the guests rose and fell as one topic and then another was brought up during the dinner.

With each course that was brought before them, a new topic arose with Allura and Lotor looking equally happy when much of the dinner seemed to be going in their favor. There were talks of creating interplanetary trade agreements, for the most part, was mostly settled with Allura and Lotor intermediating on behalf of the other members of the Coalition as their salads were cleared away before their appetizers came.

The topic of relocating the Galra came up during the soup course of the dinner. Lance was dividing his attention between the topic and his meal—a nut soup that reminded him of cashews with pieces of vegetables floating in the broth—when a member of the Coalition, a grub-like Taujeerian, spoke up in that robotic, monotone that was characteristic for its people. “While we can sympathize with Emperor Lotor for wanting to establish a home planet for his people and rectifying the wrongs of the past. We and speaking on behalf of many members and planets that belong to the Coalition would find it more beneficial if the matter was left in the hands of either Princess Allura or other members of the Coalition, instead—” Lotor’s mouth opened, clearly unsatisfied with the option being ushered forth. It was his people, it was something that he would deal with and believed the Coalition would be more than happy to agree with. The Taujeerian fixed its singular round eye upon Lotor that a made a chill run up Lance’s body as the whole scene seemed to slow down before his very eyes. “—of having the task be left to a _blood traitor’s_ hands.”

The whole room fell into a hushed quite as Lance jerked his lips away from his soup spoon, quickly glancing to his right he could see the shock upon Allura and Coran’s faces transform in a matter of seconds into anger and fury. Whipping his head to the left, he spied a droplet of blood dribbling from the corner of Lotor’s lips as his fangs sunk down into the flesh of his lower lip. The Paladin’s eyes darted to the emperor’s laps where he could see that his claws were extended and digging into his thighs. The tenseness in his body has Lance placing down his spoon, his eyes traversing the length of the room. His own teammates looked confused by what just happened, they knew something was going on, but not exactly understanding the depths of what just happened. Matt, however, looked ready to drive his spoon through the Taujeerian’s neck; Keith looked like he had some inkling of what was going on, his own human features looking slightly feral and more Galra-like.

“A break seems to be in order,” Allura called out in a clipped tone that was full of icy authority. Everyone around the table rose as the bovine servants moved forward to clear away the table of uneaten and half-eaten dishes.

As various members of the Coalition milled around talking to one another, Lotor rushed out into the hallway with Allura, Coran, and much of the members of Team Voltron following after him. Keith followed the Blade of Marmora who looked uneasy to stay in the room by themselves, Matt lingered behind looking as if he was contemplating the repercussions for murdering someone at a dinner on a planet they were technically guests on. But Pidge called out to him, forcing him to follow after his sister. As Lance followed after the Galra Emperor, he turned around to see that the Taujeerian was staring at them as they left out into the hallway. Despite being unable to tell if the alien species could make or maintain facial movements on their gelatinous body, he couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that the alien seemed to have a gleeful look upon its face as Lance speed walked into the hallway. 

Attempting to keep up with Lotor’s longer strides. “Lotor!” Lance called out to his boyfriend who ignored him, the fury in his veins blocking out any and everything from around him. “Hey, what was that back there!? Why’d that Taujeerian call you a blood trai—” Blinking Lance found himself pinned against the wall, the collar of his undersuit bunched up in between Lotor’s claws. Behind him, Keith took a step forward, a glint in his eyes that threatened to put some space between Lance and Lotor. His knife had transformed into a sword, but Kolivan reached out and with a firm hand kept Keith rooted to where he stood. Just a few feet away Pidge was letting out a stream of curses, her limbs flailing through the air as her brother kept a tight grip on her from launching herself at Lotor’s back.

“If I wanted to hear those words from your lips, Lance, I would ask.” His voice dripped with an audible venom that had Lance’s eyes bulging in his head. Coming to terms with the fact that everyone around him was tense by his behavior, Lotor’s grip on Lance slackened until the Paladin was sliding down the wall and standing on a pair of shaking legs.

“I’m sorry,” Lotor whispered, knowing that the apology wouldn’t quite satisfy what he had just done.

“What was that?” Lance asked again, licking dry lips as Lotor pressed his back to a wall and sank down into a squatting position on the floor. His long limbs obscuring his face.

Allura was the one to speak up, anger still stuck to the interior of her throat. “ _ Blood traitor _ ,” she spat out the word like it was bile coating her tongue, “was—or was supposed to be—a really old slur that originated during the days of the Altean King Gythin, during a time when relations between Altea and the Galra was at...its lowest. It was a term that describes someone who—” She paused, glancing in Lotor’s direction as if the very words pained her to say, “—betrayed their own blood heritage by intermingling with other races.”

The words settled heavily onto Lance’s shoulders as the interactions he had with Zorak cut through him like a sword. Of the numerous times, he heard the sadistic Galran general had taunted him with that singular slur whenever he referred to Lotor; that singular slur that didn’t cut through Lance until now. And though it wasn’t referring to him, it still shook him to his core. Left him shaking, his hands curling into fists as he stared at Lotor.

Lotor, who was squatting on the ground, limbs wrapped around him like an abused child that had heard this very slur the very moment they could understand words. An abused child who grew up to be an adult, knowing that despite whatever challenges he would face that he’d grown a thick skin, that he wouldn’t let that word hurt him anymore. But that thick skin wasn’t impenetrable. It had cracks and one day it would chip and those words would hurt once more.

All Lance could see was red, his face and ears heating up as his entire body went rigid. Spinning on his heels, he didn’t have time to see Lotor lifting his head up or much less his friends calling out to him as he marched back into the room. Ignoring the glances of other Coalition members who seemed shocked to see an angry Paladin, he continued marching across the room, the Taujeerian laser focused in his sight. He felt like he was breathing fire out of his very mouth and nose as he drew closer to the grub-like alien. “How dare you!” Lance breathed out, fire coating his tongue, there was an audible gasp that tore through the room. Raising a single finger, he pointed it at the alien. 

“How fucking dare you!” His voice was rising by the decibel, but he couldn’t contain the fire that was boiling inside of him. “ Lotor is really trying to change the universe. Trying to right all the wrongs of Zarkon before him. He didn’t have to come to this meeting, but you know what he came anyway in good faith to show you all! To show everyone that he isn’t anything at all like Zarkon! You all want him to prove time and time and again that he isn’t anything like Zarkon or the other shitty Galra without even giving him a chance! If anything I would say that some of you are far worse than any of the worst Galra I have ever met! 

“And if you want Lotor to jump through hoops and hurdles, to kiss your damn asses just so you can get the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. While he’s trying to change the universe, you can all remain stuck in the past and get left behind as everyone else is ushering in a new change in the universe.” He jabbed that finger in the jiggly folds of the Taujeerian. “And frankly, I would be far happier, standing by Lotor’s side ushering in a new change in the universe than working with the likes of you or anyone else who feels the need to be stuck in the past. Not to mention a huge, giant piece of Quiznak.” Somewhere behind him, he heard Allura let out a whoop of satisfaction as he smugly turned on his feels after watching the Taujeerian’s entire body turn several shades of displeasing colors. 

The entire room was silent as he picked his way across the room to where his group had clearly walked in after he had stormed off. Lotor was standing at the head of the group.

As Lance walked over to them, his shoulders grew tight and sweat began to leak out of the pores on his face. He looked absolutely stressed over the prospects that he had just made the entire situation worse for everyone. “Did I just fuck up any hope of progress we were planning to make tonight?” He breathed out.

“That was incredible,” Lotor whispered; there was a slight growl to his words that had Lance sucking in a breath at the unmistakable threads of desire that were laced into his words. His eyes were half-lidded with a desire that Lance discerned would have had the emperor picking the Paladin up, pinning him against a wall and kiss him until he was starving for oxygen. It didn’t matter if other people were in the room. He’d probably do it too and have his ego massaged as they all watched.

“Get a room you two!” Pidge growled out as Allura cleared her throat gaining all of their attention.

There was a sly smile on her face as her gaze flickered between them both. “Shall we resume this dinner?”

Slipping back into the comfortable role of a leader, Lotor bowed his head slightly in Allura’s direction. “Let’s.” Shooting a flirtatious look in Lance’s direction as he held out his arm for Allura to take, Lotor smiled cockily as he walked back to the table. The rest of the group followed with Keith lingering behind as he pointedly stared at Lance, walking past him he whispered, “Please don’t fuck your boyfriend out in the middle of dinner.” There was a playful smirk on his own face that had Lance’s face going beet red.

This was going to be a long dinner…

 

Lance was struggling for oxygen as he was forced back into the room. The door hissed shut behind him as Lotor pulled away from him, thin strands of saliva connecting Lance’s kiss-swollen lips to his. Letting out a shaky breath, a whimper pulled itself from his slightly swollen lips as Lotor’s hands gripped either side of his face, pulling the Paladin’s body close to him so that he could pepper kisses up and down the column of Lance’s neck. They were light kisses that felt like a butterfly’s legs crawling along the surface of Lance’s skin. Kisses that quickly turned to tiny, nibbling bites that had Lance’s toes curling as he turned his head slightly to the side, giving the Galra more access to the soft flesh of his neck.

“Lotor,” he breathed out softly, his hand snaking out to grip Lotor’s bicep tightly as the emperor moved him backward until his back slammed against the hard metal wall of Lotor’s antechamber. There was a chuckle that pulled itself from the Paladin’s throat as Lotor moaned softly—the sound eliciting a pool of warmth that settled in the pit of Lance’s stomach—as he let out a puff of breath against the side of Lance’s neck. His own hand gripping Lance’s thigh tightly as he lifted it so that Lance could hook the appendage around the Galra’s waist. “Really?” Lance chuckled, “Me telling someone off gets your blood boiling?”

There was a whine in the hollow of Lotor’s throat as he pulled slightly away from Lance to peer into his eyes. Their faces were close enough that it was quite offending how erotic it was for Lotor to whisper against Lance’s lips. “It was much more than that. It was the fire in your eyes when you marched across that room. You looked like you wanted to murder someone—”

“I really did,” Lance cut him off with an annoyed look on his face as the memory of that Coalition dinner played through his mind. “I never realized Taujeerian’s could be such dicks.”

With a throaty chuckle, Lotor resumed where he’d left off, “You were the most stunning thing there in that single moment.” Eyes half-lidded as he spoke, Lance gasped from the inexplicable tsunami of emotions that rolled through him. Leaning forward to claim his open mouth, both men moaned as tongues sank into caverns of searing heat. Lotor’s mouth infinitely a few degrees hotter than Lance’s own. The Paladin felt smothered as if Lotor was trying to swallow the very fiber of his being into his own body as the emperor tipped his head to the side in an effort to gain more of an access to Lance’s mouth. Pulling away with an audible pop, Lotor buried his head in the crook of Lance’s neck as the Paladin’s leg that was wrapped around his waist unwound itself and settled back at Lance’s side.

Wrapping his arms around the Paladin’s upper chest, he groaned, “You make me feel like I’m 6,000 years old again.”

Lance wrinkled his nose at that statement, with a laugh bubbling in the hollow of his chest. “So what? Is that me making you feel like a kid again? Hopefully, it’s your preteen years because I feel really horrible making out with you when I’m old and making you feel like you’re a kid all over again.”

Lotor pulled away enough that Lance could see the eye-roll he gave him. “We should go to bed, it’s getting late.”

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Lotor, Lance crooked his head back and gave his best high pitched, falsetto impression that he could as he fluttered his eyelashes in the Galra’s direction. “Oh, Mr. Emperor that sounds very suggestive.” He pointedly stared at the sizeable, outline of the very stiff bulge that Lotor was packing in his pants. Neither could contain the peal of laughter that ripped itself from their throats.

Lance was still laughing when Lotor threw him over his shoulder and carried him off through one of the doors of the antechamber that lead into his bedroom. Inside there was a large, round bed that had a shimmery, purple bed sheet spread across it with a mountain of pillows. There was a large, circular window above the bed and a tiny projector that sat upon a vanity that mapped out an ever-changing array of various constellations upon the ceiling.

Unceremoniously Lotor dumped Lance upon the bed, the Paladin bouncing a few times upon the soft bed. When he came to a stop, he cocked an eyebrow in Lotor’s direction, jutting his chin at the bulge as Lotor began to strip himself of his armor. 

“Sleep, Lance.” There was a slight growl to his words, but Lance knew that he meant no harm and was simply looking out for Lance’s best interests.

“You know, I could—” Lance began, but his words earned him a shake of Lotor’s head.

“You could, but I’m not going to force you to do something that you don’t want to do nor or ready for.”

Lance flashed him a grin that was all gum and pearly white teeth. “I know you wouldn’t. Not unless I secretly discover that I have the hots for something like that.” A laugh pulled itself from his throat as he dodged the waist cape that Lotor chucked in his direction.

Standing up from the bed, Lance stripped his armor off and the top portion of his undersuit and piled it neatly into a corner of the room until he was down to the top portion of his undersuit and a pair of white boxers that had Blue’s head printed all over them. He turned around to see Lotor reclined on the length of the bed, dressed down to his sleeveless undersuit that had a thin strip of material that wrapped around the middle of Lotor’s feet. Making no comment about Lance’s unusual choice of an ensemble to sleep in, Lotor’s white brows were raised so high up that they seemed to disappear into his hairline as he took in an eyeful of Lance’s boxers. “I’m surprised it’s not the Red Lion.”

“Hey,” Lance replied incredibly scandalized as he climbed his way onto the bed, reclining his head against a bunch of pillows as he tucked himself into Lotor’s side. “Blue is the only girl in my heart. But don’t ever tell Red I said that. He would probably roast me alive or drop me off in the middle of space.”

“I won’t.” The Emperor chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Lance’s body, the Paladin already drifting off to sleep. “Just make sure there’s enough space in your heart for me, however.”

“I’ll try,” Lance mumbled as the waves of sleep began to wash over him from the tiring events of the day. “Though most of that is taken up by Hunk’s food and Pidge, cause she’d kick my ass if I didn’t—”

“If you didn’t what?” Lotor questioned as Lance’s words fell into an abyss of silence, he waited, his lips curling in upon themselves as he stifled a flurry of laughter as the soft sound of snoring reached his ears.

Tucking himself in closer to Lance, he let the waves of sleep pull him under as well.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping for. Sleeping beside Lance had felt like a dream as he far more relaxed than he had in ages. But there was a subtle shift in the room that had his eyes snapping open, his hand darting out and underneath the pile of pillows to where a small knife was hidden. Hand gripping the pommel of the knife tightly, he yanked it from underneath the pillow, rolling onto his side where the blade of a knife met the blade of a weapon that was a cross between a Scimitar and a butcher’s knife. Connected to it was a figure draped in all black, the hood of its outfit pulled up, the only thing exposed was the purple glow from the eyes of the mask that the assassin wore. Beside him, Lance stirred awake, sleep fogging his mind as he called out, “Lotor?”

“Lance, run!” Lotor growled out, his voice and the tension in it causing Lance to jolt awake. There was a string of curses that left Lance’s lips as he cursed leaving his Bayard back in Red. “Run!” Lotor growled out yet again as Lance rolled out of the bed, leaving behind his clothing and armor to run out of Lotor’s quarters and into the hall of the command ship. 

His feet skidded against the smooth metal floor as the shadows seemed to melt off of the walls and morph into a trio of assassins that surrounded Lance. Cursing his current predicament as well as his lack of armor, Lance distanced his feet a shoulder’s length apart as the first assassin charged at him, holding its weapon aloft in the air. Taking a deep breath and remembering the hand to hand combat training sessions that Lotor had given him, Lance dropped low to the ground and launched himself up at an angle, shooting his head up so that the top of his head connected with the assassin’s chin, his right hand darting out to grab at the assassin’s wrist. He bent it at an awkward angle that had the weapon clattering to the floor as let out a frustrated yell and tossed the assassin over his shoulder at another of his adversaries. “You know I would be a lot happier to deal with you guys if you didn’t interrupt my beauty sleep.”

The thought of Red popped into his mind. He needed to get back to him and grab his Bayard, send a distress signal back to the Castle-ship. Annoyance mingled with frustration began to seep into his veins as he turned and saw the two assassins that had collided with each other shakily stand to their feet, obviously less than pleased at Lance’s antics. In the distance, the walls of the ship shook as an unmistakable Lion’s roar shook through the walls. A smile curved across Lance’s features as he faced his adversaries yet again. This time with the knowledge that back up would be soon arriving.

  
  


Sleeping peacefully with a mask over her eyes, Allura’s chest rose and fell as her mice snuggled into the crook of her neck and the crest of her chest for warmth. The entire Castle-ship was silent as its occupants slept, in separate towers however roars shook the very foundation of that silence causing the occupants of the castle to stir from their sleep. Allura shot up from her own bed, the blue mouse on her chest falling into her lap as she tore the face mask from her eyes. She didn’t know what prompted her to say it, maybe it was the innate connection that the Paladins or she herself as an Altean princess had with the Lions, but her spine went rigid as she whispered, “Lance.”

Bolting up from her bed, she ran out into the hall spying Pidge and Keith running in her direction. Undoubtedly the other occupants of the Castle-ship would be running in her direction as well.

“What’s going on!?” Pidge shouted. The space caterpillars that Pidge had taken in since finding the Green Lion hovering around her shoulders as she adjusted a crooked pair of glasses upon her face that had been haphazardly tossed on as she bolted out of her room in a sleep drenched haze. “Why are the Lions being so loud?”

“It’s Lance,” Allura explained as Coran, Shiro, Hunk, and Matt rounded the corner and joined everyone. “I think Red must be communicating with the other Lions, telling us that he’s in danger and that means Lotor could possibly be in danger as well.” She glanced at each and every one of them in turn. “Everyone get to your Lions. We have a Lance to save.”

  
  


Breathing heavily, Lance’s back was pressed to the cold metal of the hallway, the three assassins crowded around him blocking any means that he had of escape. Sweat dripped down the surface of his body as his brain worked at a million miles per hour trying to figure out a plan to escape this one. A blue colored cord whipped past Lance’s face, wrapping around the body of his assailants and bringing them crashing against one another. His gaze traveling to where the cord had come from, he sighed in relief at seeing his friends and a bunch of guards standing at the end of the corridor.

Placing a hand over her mouth, Pidge snorted, pointing to Lance’s boxers. “Nice boxers, Lance!”

Rolling his eyes at her, Lance couldn’t contain the sigh that pulled itself from his mouth. “You guys can’t tell how glad I am to see you.” A startling realization settled itself in the core of Lance’s soul. “Shit! Lotor!” Realizing that he was in the presence of Galra guards who had no inkling as to his true relationship with the emperor, he coughed, amending his words. “I think there were some assassins heading to his quarters as well.”

The guards pushed past the Paladins, rushing down the hall to Lotor’s quarters as Shiro made a step toward Lance and gripped him by his shoulders. “What happened?”

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Lance let out a disgruntled sigh. “We were sleeping,” he whispered so that no one with a wandering ear would be able to hear them. “And I woke up to Lotor fending off one of the assassins. Holy shit!” He blinked, worry settling into his veins. “I need to see if he’s okay!” Turning on his heels, Lance with his friends rushed off in the direction of Lotor’s quarters.

Slipping into the antechamber, he found two guards stationed outside the door leading to the bedroom. Staring warily at them, he pointed to the door. “Can I—?” He left the question unvoiced as they glanced at him for a brief second, but ultimately let him pass. “Lotor?” He questioned as he walked into the bedroom to see Lotor standing beside the bed. A guard stood beside him, seemingly concerned by the entire situation, but Lotor waved them away.

Eyes darting to the corner of the room where he had tossed his armor and clothes, he breathed in a sigh of relief to see that they weren’t there and prayed that Lotor had hidden them before any of the guards had come into the room. “Lance.” There was a tenderness in Lotor’s voice that had the Paladin relieved to know that the Galra was okay. A thin sheet of sweat covered his skin, however, undoubtedly from the struggle that had ensued. On the ground of the bedroom lay the dead body of the assassin that had attacked Lotor in his slip, a long gash stretched from ear to ear in the soft flesh of the attacker’s neck. Dried blood coated their clothing and their mask was slightly askew, showing a few features of their face, but none of that mattered as they could all clearly see that it was a Galra. There was a wince of pain that flashed across Lotor’s face and had Lance rushing forward to him as the Galra slightly twisted his torso, just enough that Lance and everyone in the bedroom could see the handle of a small knife sticking out of Lotor’s side.

“I’m fine.” The words slipped from Lotor’s lips in an effort to placate the Paladin who already had a fistful of hair clutched between both of his hands, his brows pushed together in worry.

“How are you fine? You have a knife sticking out of your side!” The stress in Lance’s voice was palpable.

“I’ll be fine,” Lotor reassured him as the guard at Lotor’s side ushered him away to seek medical attention. Journeying through the command ship to get to the med bay was more than a little hilarious adventure. With Lance in his boxers and Lotor clearly bleeding from the wound at his side and a gaggle of humans and a pair of Alteans trailing beside him an intrigued murmur trailed behind them. An older Galran woman didn’t look fazed to see Lotor’s wound once he stepped into the medical bay, which really should have concerned Lance much more than it did, but tonight was one massive ball of stress that kept him on the tips of his toes. Pushing out a chair for the emperor to sit in as the older woman rifled through a bunch of medical supplies as the Paladins stood surrounded by a bunch of empty healing pods.

“How are you so blase about this!?” Lance questioned after a few minutes of silence had passed as he watched Lotor sharply wince as the older woman pressed a hand to his side and pulled the knife out in one clean motion, causing a river of blood to gush out and slide down the side of Lotor’s undersuit from the now open wound.

“This isn’t the worst wound I’ve ever gotten.” Lotor groaned as the woman picked up a dark jar, uncapped it, scooped out a handful of dark cream that looked like black mud and smeared it against his side.

“Stay still.” Were the only two words that passed her lips as the scent of slightly burning flesh tinged the air as the cream did its work and repaired the wound on the emperor’s side.

Eyes focusing on Allura, Lotor took in a deep breath as he nodded his head in her direction. “My guards will see to it that the assassins you captured will be interrogated, but there will be no promise that they will talk.” Sighing deeply, Lotor reached up to push strands of hair that clung to his sweaty skin out of his eyes. “All of you please leave, I would like to be alone for a little bit.” Everyone turned to leave, but Lotor called out for Lance to stay behind. Motioning for him to step closer toward Lotor, he complied, letting the Galra lean forward so that his forehead rested against the cool material of the undersuit that stretched across the expanse of the Paladin’s stomach.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Lotor whispered.

“I am too, but we really have to reevaluate you stashing a weapon in your bed. Not very impressive to any potential suitors you have you know.” 

Chuckling at that Lotor nuzzled his forehead against Lance’s stomach. Both of them were clearly weary, Lance from his lack of sleep, Lotor from having to deal with this messy situation. “Go back to my room and get some rest. My guards won’t be there so you’ll have no difficulty returning back by yourself.”

“What did you do with—”

“—Your clothes?” Lotor answered the question with a crook of his eyebrow and a curve of his lips. “Stashed underneath the bed to preserve your modesty.”

Rolling his eyes, despite the fact that Lotor couldn’t see his face, he felt the vibrations from Lotor’s body as a deep-rooted chuckle rumbled through him. “Are you going to be okay?” Lance’s voice went soft, soft with a measure of worry and care for a person who just witnessed their boyfriend try and brush off a knife wound to the side as if it was nothing more than a paper cut.

“I will be. I just need time to myself.”

“Okay,” Lance sighed, not necessarily sounding super convinced, but he would trust the Galra. “We’ll still need to talk about this later.”

Nodding as he pulled away from his boyfriend’s skin and sent him away with a tired smile. Certain that Lance was nowhere near the medical bay or any other person for that matter, Lotor gazed at the shadows of the room and called out. “You can come out now.”

A hooded figure seemed to birth itself from the shadows, moving into the light some distance away from Lotor. They didn’t move too close, however, just enough that he could see them and so that they had shadows at the edges of their heels in case they needed to blend quickly with the darkness of the room. Reaching up to pull back the hood that was covering their face, Lotor wasn’t surprised to see the familiar coloration of pale indigo hair and a pair of horn-like appendages bulging out from her hair.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Acxa’s gaze flickered to the door where Lance had just left. “That was unexpectedly...domestic.” She lightly teased as Lotor bared his teeth in a playful manner that she was used to.

“Thank you for your intel. Without it, Lance would undoubtedly be dead.”

“I didn’t do it for my own benefit,” she huffed, her eyes going soft with concern as the chuckle that tore through Lotor’s body agitated the still healing wound on his side, causing his face to contort in pain.

“I know.” He finally responded once the pain abided enough for him to respond. The both of them existed in that room silently as a storm of unsaid emotions and feelings danced in the air between them, but they left it untouched and untalked about.

“I need to go before she notices I’m missing.” She pulled the hood back up over her head so that it obscured her features, turning on her heels, she paused and without looking over her shoulder whispered words that Lotor had silently said to himself dozens of times. “I miss you.” The words had barely reached his ears when she stepped forward and melded back into the shadows.

“I know.” He whispered to an empty room. “I know, but this will be all over soon.”

With his wound now healed, Lotor stood from his seat and traced his steps back through the command ship until he found himself in his bedroom. Lance was sitting on the edge of his bed, his things now neatly folded with his armor resting atop his undersuit and set on the floor where he had originally tossed his things. 

“You’re awake.” It came out more like a statement rather than a question as Lotor was surprised to see the Paladin still wide awake rather than sleeping soundly. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Giving him a shake of his head, Lance patted the empty space beside him which Lotor walked over and took. “I can’t sleep after all this. Plus I can’t be asleep knowing that you sleep with hidden weapons in your room.”

“It’s a necessary precaution,” Lotor grunted as he leaned back, the back of his head and spine comfortably sinking into the mattress of the bed. Lance leaned back, resting his head against the Galra’s chest. “One that I learned from Dayak as a child and has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“I know I should be concerned by your unusual childhood, but I’m pretty grateful that it kept you alive.”

Lotor doesn’t quite know what possessed him to do it. The mood wasn’t quite right; it was nowhere near being right, but he reached out and tilted Lance’s chin up, rolling on his side so that he could press his lips against the Paladin’s own. Pulling away from the kiss, a wide grin stretched across his face as a cackle rumbled in the hollow of his throat. “Are we really doing this right now?” He questioned around a hiccup of laughter.

Contemplating the question, Lotor could do nothing but give a shrug of his shoulders. “They do say that fear and adrenaline make for great aphrodisiacs.”

Brushing his thumb against Lance’s lower lip, the Paladin stared into the Galra’s eyes. “Do you want to do this right now?” The usually playful tone in Lance’s voice was gone as he stared into Lotor’s eyes, searching for any sort of answer that he could to the question.

Lotor found it adorable and endearing despite the obvious tenseness in Lance’s body from his own nerves. “I’m more than up for this.” He replied. “Though this all depends on you. Do you want this?”

Cocking his head to the side, Lance looked contemplative and for a split second, Lotor thought Lance looked like he might decline and he was okay with that. Instead, the Paladin smiled, his lips curling underneath the flesh of Lotor’s thumb. “I’ve never done this with a guy before, but I’m up for it.”

His own smile curled across his face. “We can take it slow.” There was a slight growl to his words as his eyes darkened with desire, his lids narrowing as he rolled Lance onto his back so that he was hovering above the Paladin.

Lance was giddy with laughter as Lotor leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. His long, bone-white hair hanging like a curtain from the side of his head, yet the long strands pooling at the side of Lance’s head. Their lips parted allowing Lotor to snake his tongue into the warm cavern of Lance’s mouth, earning him a soft moan from the Paladin as his right hand slid down Lance’s arm to entwine his fingers with the Paladin’s own. He repeated the motion with his left and shifted their entwined hands together so that he had Lance’s hands pinned down to the bed just slightly above his own head. Lotor’s tongue traced over the ridges of the Paladin’s warm cavern, it glided over the smooth ridges of teeth, the bumpy surfaces of gums before coming to tangle with the saliva slicked surface of Lance’s tongue.

He felt like butter melting beneath Lotor as he used his tongue and lips to kiss Lance into a drunken stupor. Needing to take a breath to calm the heady flush that was washing over his body, Lance tipped his head back away from the kiss, giving Lotor the perfect opportunity to nip and nibble at the skin of his jaw as he whispered adoring murmurations against his skin. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid my eyes upon,” Lotor whispered.

“You know,” Lance gazed into Lotor’s eyes, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a flirtatious manner, “I get told that all the time.”

With a chuckle, Lotor rolled his eyes and leaned down once more to capture Lance’s lips in a heated kiss. Both men moaned as their lips connected, cocking his head to the side, Lance untwined his fingers from Lotor’s grip. Reaching out he pressed his right hand against the back of the Galra’s head, entangling his fingers between silken locks that were just so unfair for a single being in the universe to have. He made a mental note to ask Lotor later about what sort of products he put in his hair to get it this soft. Tugging lightly on the strands that were entangled between his fingers, Lance jerked his head back in surprise, breaking the kiss between them as a throaty moan billowed out past Lotor’s lips. “I’m going to sear that moment into my brain forever.”

“If you do that,” Lotor chuckled as he stared at the Paladin, the smile on his face dropping as face morphed into an impenetrable mask of professionalism that he wore during every meeting Lance had seen him attend. “I will never let you live down your Blue Lion boxers.”

Lance gasped a look of incredulity washing over his features. “I can’t believe I’m dating someone who’s evil.”

“Not evil, just morally different.”

“Oh?” Lance questioned with a raise of his brows as he slid himself further up the bed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Then what are your morals telling you right now?”

With a toothy grin, the Galra let his eyes lustfully rake over Lance’s form. A lust that had the Paladin shivering with desire as he felt Lotor undressing him with his eyes.

“It tells me you’re wearing too much.” He growled out, his hand snaking out to caress the exterior of Lance’s thigh. Gripping it tightly, his hand snaked down until it was wrapped around Lance’s calf. Lifting the appendage, he kept eye contact with the Paladin as he turned his head, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a soft kiss to Lance’s ankle.

That really shouldn’t have turned Lance on as much as it did, but he couldn’t help the jolt of electricity that seemed to shoot down into his hardened groin. Throwing his head back against the plush pillows that took up a good portion of the bed, a moan tore itself out of his throat. “I think I’m wearing an appropriate amount.” He bit back, his teeth sinking into the flesh of his bottom lip as his cock throbbed in his boxers as he watched Lotor place the flat of his tongue against Lance’s ankle, his eyes dark with a slow, burning fire that seemed to communicate to Lance what Lotor couldn’t at the very moment:

_ Watch me. _

And oh he did. He very damn well watched as Lotor slowly traced a wet, lazy line from Lance’s ankle to the junction of skin, his tongue lighting a path of fire that burned as he dragged it against Lance’s skin just below the edge of Lance’s boxers. Covering his mouth with the tips of his fingers, Lance forced himself to remember that breathing was a necessity.

“What do you want me to do?” Lotor all but whispered huskily.

Closing his eyes for a few brief seconds, Lance all but rattled off a dozen strings of silent hail Mary’s before staring Lotor straight in his eyes and pulling his hands away from his lips. “A handjob.”

Smiling at that, Lotor forced Lance to sit up, sliding his own lithe body behind the gap left between the pillows and the Paladin’s body. The Galra’s long legs on either side of Lance as he forced the Paladin to lean back against his chest, his own bulge pressing into Lance’s lower back.

Lance could hear Lotor rummaging between the pillows, heard Lotor let out a soft exclamation of excitement as he found whatever he was looking for, and reached around to deposit a bottle in Lance’s hands that had the Paladin’s brows wrinkling together. “Seriously!” Lance exclaimed as he turned the bright blue bottle of lube around in his hands, golden alien text glittering across the hardened plastic. “What else do you have hiding beneath your pillows? If it isn’t an entire platter of desserts I’m going to be upset.” 

Feeling the ghost of a smile against his neck, Lance lifted his hips at Lotor’s instructions, he dropped the lube on the bed beside the both of them. Nimble purple fingers slid into the band of his boxers and paused as Lotor waited for Lance’s consent. With a nod of his head, the boxers were pushed down his legs until they reached his ankles—well with a bunch of shimming and wiggling on his part. His cock slightly rested against his stomach, just a little bit below his belly button. By no means was he long or ridiculously girthy, he was the average length and had a good amount of girth to his appendage. Lotor reached for the bottle of lube in Lance’s hand but uttered out in surprise when Lance lightly smacked his hand away. “Actually I’m a dry sort of guy. You can just grip it, for now, go to town and I’ll let you know when I need the lube.”

Cocking a single brow, Lotor couldn’t help but ask, “Are all Earthlings as interesting as you?”

The Paladin hissed in pleasure as the emperor carefully wrapped his hand around Lance’s length and gave it a few, slow, experimental tugs that had a bead of precum glistening at the slit of his cock, his toes curling in pleasure as he relaxed back against Lotor’s chest. His grip was slightly loose, yet firm as jerked his hand up and down the Paladin’s length. Soft puffs of breath spilled from Lance’s lips as Lotor kept a steady space stroking him; each stroke sending a jolt of electricity to the pool of warmth that rested low in his groin. His legs parted widely, giving Lotor better access to Lance’s cock. 

With every tug, Lotor would slowly twist his wrist in a manner that had stars blooming behind Lance’s eyes, his breath rising a pitch higher, the flush of his cheeks darkening as a steady river of precum fell from his slit. He felt kisses being pressed against the side of his neck as Lotor smeared whatever lubrication touched his fingers around Lance’s length and continued his movements. Moans began to fall from the Paladin’s lips as he reached behind him to grip at the smooth expanse of Lotor’s bicep. His grip on the Galra’s bicep tightened, however, when the pangs of pleasure in his gut turned to sharp jolts of pain, he tapped Lotor’s bicep with his hand. “Lube. Lube.” He chanted as he tapped the Galra’s bicep repeatedly. Pulling his hand away from Lance’s cock, Lotor couldn’t help but smirk at the small audible hiss that Lance forced through his teeth at the loss of friction.

Grabbing up the bottle of lube, Lotor flicked it open with his thumb and handed the bottle to Lance who tipped it toward Lotor’s open palm, pouring a copious amount that settled in the hollow of his palm. Recapping the bottle, Lance set it aside yet again as Lotor closed his hand smearing the viscous, bright blue lube around on his hand. Reaching out, the Galra wrapped his hand around Lance’s member. With a lubed up hand he stroked Lance, squeezing around his tip tightly when his hand glided over it, with each stroke more precum seemed to dribble out of the Paladin; his moans rising pitch by pitch, eyelids fluttering as his toes seemed to curl harder than before.

“Oh god. Oh god.” The words tumbled from Lance’s lips like a fervent prayer.

Leaning forward so that his lips brushed against the edge of Lance’s ears, Lotor whispered, “That isn’t quite my name.” That sent him over the edge, back arching, a moan died in the hollow of his throat as his cock twitched feverishly in Lotor’s hand. Ropes of cum gushed out of his slit, arching feebly in the air before coming to dribble down Lance’s length and coat the side of Lotor’s hand.

Breathing heavily as he lay back against Lotor’s chest, he found that his entire limbs were made of jelly as he lay languidly on the bed. A sense of bliss and the afterglow of pleasure washing over him as he calmed down from the aftereffects of his orgasm. Lotor was silently running his fingers through Lance’s hair as he wiped the remnants of Lance’s cum on the bed sheets. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Lance sat up, his spine curving as he reached down and pulled his boxers off of himself completely. Tossing the offending material off of the bed and onto the floor, he turned around to face Lotor, a brow perfectly arched on his face.

Reclined against the pillows littering his bed, Lotor let out a pleased laugh at Lance’s silent question. “Surprise me.” Were the two words that he uttered as Lance moved between his legs, lying flat on his stomach he reached out, his fingers curling into the hem of the bottom half of Lotor’s undersuit. Brows shooting up to his hairline, Lance was surprised when his fingers met only the heated flesh of Lotor’s bare skin and the tight spandex of the undersuit.

“Is going commando more your thing or is it a Galra thing in general?” 

Refusing to answer that question, a smile curved on Lotor’s lips as he reached down covered Lance’s hands with his, thumb hooking underneath the hem of undersuit and pulled the fabric down exposing his own cock to the cool air of his bedroom.

“Oh.” Lance breathed out, his eyes transfixed on Lotor’s member that had Lotor’s brows scrunching together in a mix of confusion and slight concern.

“I understand the hesitation if it looks nothing similar to yours or other humans.”

“No,” Lance replied with a nervous laugh as he eyed up Lotor’s member. It looked insanely similar to a human’s own, despite the fact that it was as girthy as Lance’s wrist, it rested at a forty-five-degree angle against the skin of Lotor’s groin. “I just thought it would look...different?”

“Different how?”

“Matt told me that Galra dicks would have ridges, were as thick as one of Shiro’s arms and glowed in the dark.”

Throwing his head back, Lotor let out a deep laugh that was born from the depths of his stomach as Lance’s face burned from embarrassment. “I’m never listening to Matt again.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as Lotor continued to laugh.

His cheeks puffed out, his cheeks reddening from the embarrassment of the situation, but he found himself doubling over with laughter at the whole situation as well. Especially Lotor who was laughing without a care in the world, despite his dick jiggling against his skin as his entire frame shook from laughter.

“My phallus generally doesn’t do that,” Lotor finally hiccuped out between beats of laughter, his tone became serious, his face deadpan as he asked, “I could make it do all of those things if you wanted me to.”

Brows pinching together, Lance’s face scrunched up to near comical proportions as he blinked at the Galran emperor. “Firstly, I can’t believe your usage of the word  _ phallus _ , it sounds so prim and proper. Secondly,” his lips transformed into a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes about your body parts now.” Faux sniffling, he pretended to rub at the corner of his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “I must really be making an impression on you.”

Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Lotor motioned to his cock with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes, your majesty.” Lance harrumphed as he reached out and firmly gripped the Galra’s member, his fingers barely touching each other as he gave it a few tugs.

“Please,” Lotor moaned, that captivating smirk still stretching across his face. “Your majesty was reserved for my father.”

Lance had to roll his eyes at their conversation, as much as one could find talking about their significant other’s deceased abusive parents during sexy times, he really wanted to focus on the task before him. Leaning forward he cocked his head to the side as he continued to tug on Lotor’s cock. Sticking his tongue out, tentatively he licked a small stripe up the hard expanse of Lotor’s shaft. He could feel the appendage twitch underneath the tip of his tongue.

“I thought you said we were taking this slow?” Lotor asked with a quirk of his brow, his words were threaded through with a hiss of pleasure as Lance repeated the same motion again. 

Eyes half-lidded with a playful light burning in his eyes, Lance’s lips quirked upwards into a smirk. “This is slow.”

Lips parting to say something snarky, Lotor threw his head back, a moan tearing itself from his throat as Lance set to work on the task at hand. He pressed his lips against the Galra’s shaft, his tongue laving against the skin as he kept his grip tight on the member. Pressing his other hand on the meat of Lotor’s inner thigh, he could feel the muscles there tightening as he dragged his lips up and down the shaft, licking and nibbling at the expanse of skin before pressing the flat of his tongue against the shaft, dragging it upwards until the tip of his tongue curled in on itself as he flicked the wet organ against the head of Lotor’s cock. Sliding his hand down so that he was gripping the base of Lotor’s cock, he wrapped his lips around the head of the Galra’s member, causing Lotor to grown as the tip of his cock was surrounded by the warm, wet cavern of the Paladin’s mouth. 

Reaching out, Lotor’s hand entangled itself into the locks of Lance’s hair as the Paladin suckled and swirled his tongue around the appendage in his mouth. His cock twitched in the young man’s mouth as Lance suckled hard and slow, shifting his head down on Lotor’s cock as he swallowed inches of the member into his mouth until his lips were stretched halfway down Lotor’s length. With the remainder of the unswallowed flesh that he wasn’t going to force into his mouth anytime soon, he jerked his fist up and down as he dragged his lips up and down the flesh that he held in his mouth. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his lips as Lotor’s moans filled the room with a sweet chorus of music that had Lance’s already spent cock twitching against the satin sheets. Breathing heavily through his nose, Lance found himself entranced by Lotor’s steadily rising moans and the pant of his breath that seemed to mingle with the squelching of saliva that rang in Lance’s ears as he sucked firmly on Lotor’s tip, his tongue tracing the underside of the head. The Galra’s grip on his hair tightened as the muscles in his thighs seemed to tighten even more. 

“Lance.” His name fell from Lotor’s lips with a throaty growl as his member fervently twitched upon the surface of the Paladin’s tongue. Jerking Lance’s locks, the Paladin slurped his way up the length of Lotor’s cock as he could feel the member seemed to stiffen as Lotor ground his teeth together. A grunt pulled itself out of the Galra’s mouth as a splash of pale, lavender cum hit Lance on his cheek. It felt thick on his skin as he moved forward to wrap his lips back around Lotor’s tip, he could feel the cock twitching on his tongue as strings of cum shot into his mouth. A sweet, yet salty taste coated his tongue as he swallowed the thick liquid down as the twitching from Lotor’s cock stilled and the Galra pulled the appendage out of the Paladin’s mouth with a satisfied sigh.

“I’m going to go clean up.” Lance voiced as he moved off of the bed, walking out into the antechamber he walked through the other door that lead to the bathroom. Turning on the tap for the sink, Lance quickly washed his face off, turned the tap off and made his way back to the bedroom where Lotor had already pulled up his undersuit over his hips. He looked absolutely serene as he lay on the bed, one eye closed, but the other open and focused on Lance as he walked across the room and picked up the boxers he’d tossed onto the floor earlier. Slipping them back on his legs, he wiggled into them before making his way over to the bed. Getting on it, he climbed across the sheets, laid down and pressed his head against Lotor’s chest. The both of them content and bliss as they lay on the bed. The Galran Emperor was affectionately rubbing his hand up and down the length of Lance’s back as the both of them were languidly drifting off to sleep. The Paladin’s eyes were partially closed when Lotor whispered three words out into the air that had his entire body going rigid. “I love you.”

Pressing the flat of his hand against Lotor’s chest, he lifted his head up to stare into a pair of bright blue pupils. His mouth was hanging open in shock, no words would come past his lips. The response that should have been normal in that situation, a single  _ I love you too _ refused to come out; it wasn’t that he didn’t love Lotor, he truly did.

He just didn’t think he was emotionally ready; ready within that singular moment to say those words back. Not with the same depth that Lotor said them. Yet Lotor sensed that as he reached out and forced Lance’s head back onto his chest. “I know those words have much more different connotations on Earth than those that exist in my culture, but I really do love you. I love that I feel that I can be myself around you without having to be on my toes all the time, without having to feel pressure or weight on my shoulders as I mask who I truly am. There aren’t many people in this universe who know the real me, Lance.” He paused, staring contemplatively in the distance for a moment. “In fact, I think there’s hardly anyone who does...except for you.” Leaning down, the Galra pressed his lips against the top of Lance’s temple. “So don’t think that you need to respond right now or that you owe me an answer. I want to hear you say it when you’re ready to.” 

With that, tucking an arm underneath his head, Lotor sunk back into the pillows behind him as Lance pressed his ear flat against the Galra’s chest, listening to the  _ thump-thump _ of his heart pounding in his chest as it rose and fell. The thumping of his heart soon mingled with the soft sighs that fell from his lips, singling to Lance that he was fast asleep. Lifting his head up slightly so that his chin was now resting on Lotor’s chest, he stared at unblemished skin, a face that was relaxed and free of worry as Lotor slept. It tugged at the strings of his heart to think that for the first time in a very long existence for Lotor, he was allowing himself to sleep so freely around Lance. It brought a smile to the Paladin’s face as rested the side of his face against the expanse of Lotor’s chest once more. The Galra’s heartbeat pulling him under the waves of dreamless sleep.


	18. The Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no update. I had a lot of unforeseen events happen to me that made writing this fic get shoved onto a back burner. From having a family member rushed to the hospital on Christmas to having just a really shitty winter, the least of my concerns were focused on this fic. But I'm back! With a longer chapter this time.

It’d been months since the Coalition dinner and everything seemed to be going well for the first time in a long time for Lance. There wasn’t anything that threatened the Paladins for once, besides the occasional skirmishes from Galra forces that opposed Lotor’s leadership and as a result created situations that the Paladins had to respond to. Especially if a Galran leader decided that the best way to create their own opposing army against Lotor was to attempt to conquer a planet for its resources that the Paladins had liberated once before.

But overall, much of everyone’s time was spent in meetings and bonding with one another. Lance and Lotor spent much of their time either on dates or relaxing in areas of the Castle-ship where Lotor didn’t have to be careful to hide their relationship. And it seemed that everyone was getting along with Lotor much more now as well.

Lotor would spend some evenings with Pidge, their heads hunched over datapads stuffed with information as he taught her about Galra technology. It intrigued Lance to no end to the point that he had to ask Lotor about it.

“We have an agreement.” Were the only words that Lance could get out of him.

It had him doubled over in laughter as his brain put two and two together. “She’s bribing you?” He hiccuped out through the laughter that had tears springing to the corner of his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Lotor reached up and pulled Lance down into his lap. Pressing a hand to Lance’s left cheek, his face was as smooth as a stone worn down by the waves of an ocean. “I don’t get bribed. Pidge just...offered me a mutually beneficial deal that I couldn’t refuse. If anything she fell for a carefully orchestrated plan.” He leaned in closer to the Paladin, pressing their lips together.

“Gross!” A voice behind them shouted. The two of them pulled away from each other abruptly, they both turned to see Pidge standing near the doors of the lounge. She held a datapad in her hand. “Get a room you two.” She pointed a single finger at Lotor. “And I did indeed blackmail you.” She curled her finger back into her hand, rotating her wrist, she slowly curled back her middle finger and smiled gleefully at Lotor as she walked backward out of the room.

Groaning Lotor pressed his forehead against Lance’s shoulder. The Paladin was letting out an infectious laugh at Pidge’s shenanigans. “Is it bad that I sometimes get the desire to throw her on an abandoned planet?”

Shaking his head, Lance simply smiled. “That’s the feeling you get when family bugs you.”

Lotor hummed at the word as if it was a foreign concept to him. Which it definitely was, considering his own history with Zarkon and the lack of it with his own mother. “Family, huh?”

There were days where Lance would find Lotor with Keith. The sound of blades clanging together reverberating around the training room. Lotor with his sword and Keith with his own Galra blade, the Galra Emperor pushing the young Blade of Marmora member back with every single step that he took. Smiles plastered on both of their faces as Lotor paused mid-fight to correct Keith’s stance in the appropriate manner that it should have taken in traditional Galran swordsmanship.

With Hunk, the Yellow Paladin would spend time with both Lance and Lotor, he’d plow them both with whatever food he’d been experimenting with for the day. There were a few times where Hunk would make enough treats and pack them up in Yellow. All three of them would travel to Balmera to see the state that the planet was still undergoing as it returned to a healthy state after years of mistreatment from the empire. Yellow and Red touched down upon the short stalks of grass that stretched farther than the eye could see. There were patches of brown dirt that still poked through the planet, but it was healthy and looked far better than when it was barren and dying. White crystals seemed abundant upon the planet; thriving and growing as all three of them climbed out only to be greeted by the Balmerans. The first time they had all seen Lotor, they looked shocked and wary to see the Galran Emperor on the planet. Fears that they were being reconquered and subjugated to a living hell that the Paladins had freed them from clearly ran through all of their minds as Lotor had frowned at a pair of children who clung to their mother’s legs, hiding their faces behind her as if Lotor was a terrible boogeyman that would rip their souls from his body with his fangs.

It took some placating on Lance and Hunk’s parts to convince the Balmerans that Lotor wasn’t there to enslave them or endanger their planet. Hunk was able to get through them more than Lance could ever have. When Shay and her family poked their head out from the throng of people that surrounded them, they knew that at least they’d convinced Shay’s family that Lotor came in peace.

With each passing visit that they made to Balmera, it was apparent that the people were beginning to warm up to Lotor. Children became a little more daring as they tugged at Lotor’s waist cape, ran between his legs, and ran in glee whenever Lotor would humor them by flashing a glimpse of his fangs.

There were evenings where Allura and Coran would find themselves in the lounge with Lotor, projections of a now destroyed Altea hovering above them all as they regaled Lotor with tales and history of their lost culture and people. They bonded with him over tales of Allura’s carefree childhood, where she would whisper of moments in which she would sneak into the castle kitchen and fill the pockets of her skirt with as much seaberry tarts as she possibly could, running out of the kitchen as fast as her tiny feet could carry her once the cook turned around and realized that many of the treats he’d just finished baking were no longer on the counter. Laughing jovially, Coran wiped tears out of the corner of his eyes as he realized that Allura was the source of rumors that had swirled around the castle for weeks about there being a ghost that stole tarts. Promising that she would ask Hunk to recreate her favorite childhood treat so that Lotor could have some. A pleased smile curved across Lotor’s lips as he thanked the princess with a geniality that had her shoulders sagging in relaxation.

Out of all of them, Lotor seemed wary of Shiro more than any of the other Paladins. He never shared his sentiments as to why even when Lance questioned him about it. He’d merely shrugged his shoulders and explained to the Paladin that he had reasonings as to why he wasn’t quite so ready to extend any open arms to Shiro as readily as he did with the others. He spoke to Shiro as much as he did the with all of them, but whatever he did have to say were spoken in clipped and short sentences that revealed very little to the Black Paladin. Lance hopped that it was just going to take some time for Lotor to come around to Shiro. 

Overall, Lance and Lotor spent much of their time together or with the other Paladins. One such evening they all found themselves in the lounge, relaxed against the seats as Coran set up the board for a round of Mana & Monsters. 

“So that’s how you play the game?” Lotor asked a brow arched perfectly above his eye as he slowly turned his game piece between his thumb and index finger, examining it.

“Yep, just pick a class for your character and imagine a backstory and we’re good to go. It’s really a lot like Earth’s version of Dungeons and Dragons.” Pidge answered as she shoved a fistful of popcorn into her mouth, her cheeks puffing up like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter.

Once everyone had decided on their characters and class, Coran began a new campaign for the game. 

Lance threw his hands up in the air, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way through his nose as the bowl of popcorn that he balanced between his legs wobbled precariously. They were nearly half an hour into the game when Lance’s brows pinched together and he had to swivel his head in the Galra’s direction. “Lotor, you can’t kill the shop clerk!”

“Why not?” Lotor huffed as if Lance was being the ridiculous one in this scenario. “He’s holding the items we need in order to find the Crown of Altemeria. It’s quite reasonable to just kill him, take the map and the Key of Seven Songs and be on our way. If anything the shop clerk is the one being unreasonable by asking that we go out of our way to slay an entire mountain of Dzaars, find his lost rabbit, and pay him 3,000 rubies when we could just kill him and take what we need.”

“You know,” Hunk began, scratching at his chin inquisitively, “Lotor is actually making a lot of sense here.”

Lance whipped his gaze in his friend’s direction. “Hunk, please don’t encourage him.”

Somehow they all stubbornly ended up agreeing to Lotor’s plan. The Galra’s face lit up with glee when their team gained the materials needed to continue on their quest. Leaning into Lotor’s shoulder, Lance breathed out with a sigh, “I hate you.”

“I doubt that.” There was a warmth and tenderness in his voice that had Lance melting into his side with a sigh as they continued their campaign. This moment was perfect, these past few weeks had been perfect for Lance and he felt nothing could ever change that.

They’d just fought off a pack of Twuli when Allura’s communicator lit up. Glancing down at the device, her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise to see that it was Keith. “Pardon me, everyone.” She announced as she rose from her seat and made her way out of the lounge and into the hallway. She tapped the communicator, accepting Keith’s call, causing his face to hover above the device as it displayed a holographic projection of his face. She slightly frowned, her mouth wrinkling in a way that it did when she looked contemplative. There was something slightly...different about Keith and she couldn’t put a finger on what it possibly could be. “Keith, why are you calling so late?” She questioned. It was nearly in the wee hours of the night and it was strange for him to be calling while he was in the midst of a secretive mission that he’d only given her and Coran vague details about when he mentioned that he wouldn’t be returning for quite some days before leaving.

She hadn’t been quite too worried. There were some complexities and nuances with the Blade of Marmora that even their allies weren’t privy too. So it wasn’t far and in between when neither Keith nor the other members of the Blade couldn’t tell the Paladins of Voltron about the details or circumstances of their missions. 

“Allura, I’m going to need you to round everyone up.” There was fear and trepidation underlying his words that had a thrum of fear surging through her.

“Why? What’s going on?”

Keith let out a puff of breath through his nose as he tore his own gaze away from the holographic projection of Allura to look behind him to where his mother, Krolia, was sitting with their passenger comforting her as she wrung her hands nervously together. He studied her quickly, taking in the pigtails that graced her head and formed a crown braid with arching bangs, her slightly pale skin that had a yellowish tint to it before his eyes settled on the cyan Altean markings that marred her cheeks. Turning his head back around to settle on Allura’s holographic projection, he stared deeply into her eyes. “We have a problem.”

It took a while for Keith to pilot the ship to the Castle, considering how far away he was from the team’s location to the quantum abyss. He finally managed to make it and was climbing out of the ship into the docking bay when he saw from a distance the doors to the bay opening with Allura rushing through them.

“Keith!” Allura shouted his name, worry, and trepidation replaced by a general relief at having the half-Galra back again. Keith didn’t have time to address the little gasp that fell from Romelle’s lips at the sight of Allura rushing toward them. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t reply at first right away, instead, he reached out to pull her into a tight hug that he never wanted to let go from. He knew not much time had passed since he was gone, but to him, it felt like two whole years lost in the abyss. “I missed you guys.”

“Keith,” Allura laughed a little nervously, “you were only gone for 3 days.” Her brows crinkled as she wormed her way out of the hug. “Did you get taller?” Her eyes widened in shock as she glanced around him to see Romelle and Krolia standing there, along with Cosmo. “Is that a cosmic wolf?”

“I’ll explain all of this later, but for now where is everyone?”

 

Frowning, Lance drummed his fingers against his bicep as he milled around in the bridge with the rest of his teammates and Lotor. Allura had suddenly asked everyone to assemble here, she wouldn’t explain why, but simply assured them that she would be back. Lance was getting restless as a foreboding feeling settled into the pit of his stomach that something wasn’t right. He was about to push himself off the steps that he was sitting on when the door to the bed slid apart with a hiss revealing a graved faced Allura standing beside a slightly taller Keith, a Galra woman, and—

“Is that an Altean?” A shocked whisper left Coran’s lips, his eyes slightly widening as he stared at Romelle with the growing realization that he and Allura probably weren’t the last of their people.

Shock and intrigue washed over everyone, but Lance couldn’t ignore the bristle of suspicion that tingled at the back of his neck. Turning his head in Lotor’s direction, he caught the pinch of his brows and the tense muscles in his jaw as he looked startled at Romelle’s appearance. The female Altean was glaring at him as she lifted a single hand and pointed an index finger at the Galran Emperor. “Lotor has been harvesting quintessence from Altean’s for ages!” The words rushed out from her mouth in a storm of agitated fury as shock and cynicism swept over everyone.

Allura’s mouth immediately flattened into a thin line, Coran’s eyes swiveled to where Lotor quickly shot up beside Lance, his gaze burned with suspicion and an underlying current of anger.

“I come from a colony full of thousands of Altean’s who are descendants of my people who were on trading expeditions when the Galra attacked and destroyed Altea.” Romelle continued.

Something just wasn’t adding up here to Lance as he stood up from where he sat. Something didn’t  _ feel _ right, much less  _ seem _ right. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at their new guest. “Then if you come from a colony where there are thousands of Alteans, why are you the only one Keith brought back?”

She glared at him, her mouth twisting in annoyance as Allura angrily spat out at him. “Lance, that isn’t the point!”

“Then what is the point!?” Bittnerness coated his words. “Are we just going to believe her when there’s no proof that Lotor’s done anything she’s claimed?”

“The proof that I have,” Romelle sneered as she continued to glare at him, “is watching my own brother die right before my very eyes as he told me that the new colony Lotor claimed he was sending my people to was merely a fabrication and a ploy for harvesting my people’s quintessence.”

“We saw the colony, Lance,” Keith whispered, there was pity in his eyes that undoubtedly this was the worst news that anyone could have delivered to Lance. “We saw the facility where Altean’s quintessence was being harvested...everything she’s saying is true, Lance.”

Shaking his head as a feeble smile twisted itself onto his lips, Lance stared at his boyfriend. “Tell them you would never do something like that. I know you and you would never do something like that. I’ve seen how much you love Altea...how much you love your heritage and there has to be an explanation for all of this. Tell them it isn’t true.” He pleaded desperately with him, his voice cracking on his words as he watched Lotor’s eyes flutter shut, his chest rising as he pulled in a breathe and let a mask he hadn’t worn in a long time settle over his face.

It was like he was preparing himself to take over the blame of something that he wasn’t directly involved in. Like this wasn’t the first time he’d had to take up that mantle.

“Lotor is a murderer!” Romelle shouted, spittle flying from her lips as her frenzied words only heightened the animosity that was beginning to brew on the bridge.

Tears burned in the corner of Lance’s eyes as he desperately attempted to plead with his friends, with people that he’d come to regard as a second family after everything they’ve been through. “Guys, please…”

But they ignored him. The anger and fury they all held for the past actions of the Galra Empire—the animosity they felt—clouded their rational judgment. “He’s a murderer just like his father!” Pidge snapped, none of them picking up on the subtle twitch of Lotor’s lips as he was compared to a man that had abused him; had tossed him out and disowned him; had branded him a criminal worthy of being killed all for the sake of a measly bounty and a dishonor that he had felt his own son had brought about upon the empire.

“You know nothing about what you speak.” Lotor snarled back, his words unusually calm and collected despite the growing animosity in the room.

The bridge became awash with flashing red lights as blaring sirens filled the room, drowning out a growing clamor as Coran announced that the hangar had been breached. In the corner of Lance’s eyes, he saw a luminescent indigo glow, whipping his head in its direction he saw something feral burning in Shiro’s eyes as his prosthetic arm glowed a luminescent shade of purple. “Shiro?” He questioned as the Black Paladin let out a feral roar that had everyone turning their attention on him as he began to attack the very friends he’d made through conflict and struggle.

Everything descended into chaos as Lance reached out and gripped Lotor by the arm, even as the grunts and groans of his friends reached his ears as they tried to fight back against Shiro. His mouth parted to say something to the Galra, but he was interrupted by a feral growl of words. “Lance, get out of the way.” Lance turned his head at the sound of Shiro’s voice, behind him his friends lay unconscious on the ground.

Yanking his hand off of Lotor’s arm, he stood protectively in front of the Galra, his arms were outstretched despite the slight tremor wracking through his body as he feebly tried to convince himself that his smaller frame compared to Shiro was going to be a good shield to protect Lotor with. He cursed himself for leaving his Bayard back in his room, but who would suspect that any of this would be happening right now? That one of their own was attacking them aboard a space they viewed as a home?

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He replied snarkily as Shiro coldly grinned at him.

“That works just fine with me.”

He blinked just as Shiro’s leg connected with the side of his neck, there was an audible crunch as the force of it sending him flying a few feet away as his body crumpled onto the floor like a rag doll. His neck stung as he shivered in pain. The sound of a sickening punch reached his ears as the edges of his vision began to swim with darkness. The doors to the bridge glided apart to reveal Zethrid and Ezor, standing there cockily as if this nothing more than a waltz into the space mall. Ezor saw him, pulling a hand off of her hip, she wiggled her fingers at him in greeting as he watched Shiro walk toward them—Lotor tossed over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Lotor,” the Galra’s name fell from his dry lips as the wave of unconsciousness pulled him underneath its icy depths.

The only thing he remembered was the sound of the bridge doors hissing shut.

 

Groaning in pain, a shiver raced through his body as his temple throbbed in agony. Eyes fluttering open, Lotor squinted at the unfamiliar hallway that he found himself in, before noticing the tight pressure on his left bicep and pressure around his wrist that undoubtedly meant he was handcuffed. Turning his head to see what the tight pressure could be on his bicep, he was unsurprised to find a metallic hand gripping him tightly.

Despite his pounding headache, he quirked a brow in Shiro’s direction. “A clone? I should’ve known.” He hummed inquisitively to himself. 

“We’ll take it from here.” Zethrid gruffly announced to the Shiro clone as she and Ezor appeared before Lotor. The clone released his grip on Lotor’s arm, causing Zethrid to reach out and grip Lotor roughly by the arm. Her grip was tight, he could nearly feel her meaty fingers attempting to crush the bones of his arm despite layers of flesh and fibers making that impossible. But considering that he’d seen her rip people in half before, she was being lenient by keeping her grip that tight. She jerked him along as the trio traversed down a long hall, it caused him to trip and stumble as he quickly collected himself enough to hear the annoyed huff in the hollow of her throat.

She had every right to be angry, every single one of his generals had a right to be angry with him after Narti’s death. There were certain things he should have told them, certain things that he shouldn’t have kept so closely guarded to the tip of his tongue, but there was no use crying over mistakes made in the past.

They made their way down the hall until they were standing in front of a very tall, metallic door that slid apart upon their arrival, revealing to Lotor’s eyes Acxa who stood just a few feet away from the door and the cloaked back of the Haggar. Scowling in disgust at her appearance, he made no attempt to hide his displeasure or disgust with her presence.

“Prince Lotor,” the witch called out to him in her gravely voice, he watched as she reached up to grip the cloth of her hood with both of her hands as she slowly turned around to face him, pulling her hood down to expose the features of her face. Her eyes were cold and frigid as ice as she peered down at him with a look that only made the blood in Lotor’s veins run cold along with the shock and rage that coursed through him. “My son.” There was tenderness in her voice that had bile rising in the hollow of Lotor’s throat as eons of suffering at the witch’s hands burned in his mind.

The shock was palpable in the room. Zethrid’s grip on his arm slackened as his generals took in the brown dusted skin of Haggar that normally had been disguised as a pale lavender. Her face was riddled with worn and exhausted lines that conveyed her lengthy age that accompanied her red facial markings. Yet her eyes were still that same, beady tuscany colored eyes that haunted Lotor in his sleep. Despite the efforts Zarkon had gone through to scrub any images of his wife from history, they’d all grown up with the stories of the Galra’s past, how Zarkon had tried to save his pretty Altean wife. Despite her mutated features, it wasn’t hard to see that this woman standing before them was an Altean. 

He didn’t bother lifting his head to see the distraught look upon Acxa’s face or the pity that burned in her eyes as her brows pinched together in an attempt to process everything that was going on. 

Honerva’s eyes flickered over her son’s face, studying the twisted scowl of his lips that exposed the sharp edge of his fangs or the look of absolute fury on his face. If he wasn’t restrained he very well would have charged after her and ripped her apart with his bare hands. “The anger you feel towards me is...to be expected.” She continued to stare down at him as she addressed him. “But understand that the events that transformed me into the witch Haggar also shrouded any glimmer of maternal instinct that I may have had for my one and only child.”

He was shaking, seething with rage as the hot pinprick of tears burned in the edges of his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he words sunk into his bones, into the core depths of his heart as her words soaked into him. He wanted to laugh bitterly, to scream, to cry….to do anything as he words rattled in the interior of his brain. He felt that her words were hollow. What had happened to her had shrouded the very little bits of maternal instinct that she should have had for her only son? She may have very well told him to his face that she had very little to none of the maternal instincts for him that mothers were supposed to possess. 

“However,” she continued, “you have continued the very work I started all that time ago and have indeed seen it through to heights I could have only imagined. Your never-ending pursuit of knowledge is tru—”

The puzzle pieces snapped into place in his mind. “You.” The single word was released in a snarl that had Honerva narrowing her eyes at him. “You were behind the missing Altean’s weren’t you?” He could feel the shift in the room as his general’s sense of confusion directed itself toward him. He watched the corner of Honerva’s lips twitch into a satisfied smirk like a proud parent who was gazing at some wonderful milestone or accomplishment that their child completed. 

It disgusted him.

“It was a task that needed to be done. Something that your father would have understood. Something that you should understand as your mother—”

“Enough!” Lotor snarled, anger rolling off of him in waves. “My mother ceased to exist when Honerva drew her last breath. Do not believe for a moment that I would ever accept you as kin. You are an abomination, a twisted perversion of something that was once pure and beautiful. The end is near witch.” His own lips quirked upward into a sadistic half-smile, his words dripped with malice. “I know you can sense it. If you beg for mercy now, maybe I will take pity on you when the time comes. Just maybe I’ll end your life with the very same sword that’s coated with your beloved husband’s blood.”

Her eyes darkened with disappointment, lifting a single hand she waved it in his direction dismissively. “Take him away.” She commanded as Acxa turned slightly as Zethrid released her grip of him. Reaching out she gingerly touched the flesh of his arm, causing him to turn his head slightly so that he gazed into her eyes for a few brief moments.

A silent conversation was exchanged between them as the half-Galra nodded her head ever so slightly. In the blink of an eye, Lotor had lifted his arms above his head, spinning out of the way so that he was behind Acxa as she quickly unholstered her gun from her side. Her index finger curling around the trigger as she pointed the muzzle in Honerva’s direction.

She pulled the trigger. A blast of energy surging from the muzzle of her gun and toward Honerva, who disappeared just mere fractions of a second before the energy blast hit her. The half-Galra scowled as she quickly shoved her gun back into the holster attached to her belt, turned and settled on freeing Lotor from his cuffs.

“Did you just kill her!?” Ezor shouted in disbelief as she pressed her hands against her head.

“Are you working with Lotor?” The confusion from Zethrid’s question melded in with her shock and disbelief at the event that she had just witnessed unfold before her eyes.

Their questions rushed and filled with confusion seemed to collide with each other and reached both Axca and Lotor’s ears with a hurried breath that molded the individual questions into a giant, convoluted mess. 

Lotor huffed as the cuffs clattered down to the ground. His wrists now free, he rubbed at the sore flesh with his hands as he turned to address his generals. “I know I have a lot to explain to you guys, especially after everything I’ve pulled, but I promise I will explain everything in due time. Right now, I can assure you that she isn’t dead. But if you’re with me then we need to get to the Sincline ships and leave right now.”

Ezor and Zethrid exchanged a glance with each other. The slimmer alien groaned as she gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Oh, what the hell, this is the least craziest thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Cocking a lopsided smile as Ezor turned her gaze upon Zethrid, the larger half-Galra shrugged her shoulders as well. “Oh, what the hell, I might as well make use of my free time.”

Ezor swiveled her gaze back to Lotor as she pointed a single finger at him. “After this, you are so making it up to the three of us with an all-exclusive spa vacation.”

A smile wormed its way across Lotor’s features as he settled into the comfort of being surrounded by his generals again. “I promise on my honor that I’ll make that happen once we get out of her and take care of a number of things.”

It didn’t take them long to find their ships or launch into space once they made it into the hangar bay. “Sir, where are we going?” Acxa’s voice crackled in Lotor’s ears.

“To the Castle of Lions.” He needed to explain his side of the story to Lance. He didn’t care if the other Paladins chose to believe him or not, all that mattered to him was Lance hear his side of the story and choose to believe it for himself or not.

Acxa’s frown was almost audible to his ears as her voice crackled over his communication device yet again. “Sir, the wormhole deposited us on the far side of the Sithzonian system. It would take multiple hyperspace jumps and even then it will take some time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“Ooh,” Ezor cooed over their communication devices. “While we’re traveling there can we please talk about Honerva? I mean how has she managed to continue looking that young despite being a literal zombie after eons….” She settled into a fast-paced babble that lulled Lotor into a sense of ease as he watched planets and stars drift by.

It took them quite some time to reach the coordinates where the Castle of Lions had been before Lotor had been kidnapped and whisked away. He had hoped that Coran and Allura hadn’t decided to move the castle as a necessary precaution. When they neared the coordinates, Lotor wasn’t all that surprised to see the Lions floating in wait for him. They were all there, he noted, save for the Black Lion that was unusually absent, which meant Keith was nowhere to be found.

“You betrayed us.” Allura’s voice hissed in his ear, “You betrayed and used all of us. You’re more like Zarkon than I could have ever imagined.”

He squinted. It was a low blow and the both of them knew it. It didn’t mean he wasn’t above making a few low blows of his own. “What about your father?” He countered back. He ignored the sharp hiss of breath that Allura pulled into her lungs and instead focused on the Red Lion. “Lance,” he whispered, “please all I came here to do was talk. Tell my side of the story. Please, can we just talk?”

Inside Red’s cockpit, Lance’s hands were shaking as he drew in a staggered breath, his eyes were pinched closed as Lotor’s very voice filled his ears. He could feel unshed tears burning behind his eyes as Lotor called out his name once more.

“Leave him alone!” Pidge’s shrill voice crackled over everyone’s communicators. “Haven’t you hurt him enough!?”

Tongue darting out to wet dry lips, Lotor breathed through his nose at the deafening silence that the lack of Lance’s response left behind. If they wanted to make him out to be a villain, he very well might see it through as one. “Have it your way then,” he whispered, his eyes briefly falling shut, before snapping open with a cold, detached gaze. “Attack the Lions.” His words came out in a monotone chill as the Lions moved into a defensive formation.

In his cockpit, tears were falling freely from Lance’s eyes as he danced and weaved his way from the Sincline’s attacks as it shot powerful rays of energy at them. The groans and screams of his teammates rattled in Lance’s ears, someone screamed out Keith’s name. Causing him to lift his head to see the Black Lion rushing toward them. “Guys! We need to form Voltron!” Keith shouted into their communication devices. They transformed into Voltron, but despite their belief that they had the upper hand for a few mere moments, the Sinclines still proved to be a worthy adversary against them. Shocking them a few moments later as Lotor opened up a rift and traveled through it.

Something else seemed to be happening to the Galra as well, when his generals were shot out from their ships, causing the empty hulls and the ship that Lotor was piloting to merge into some sort of Voltron-esque monstrosity.

It disappeared into a rift and kept reappearing as they continued to get pummeled. It wasn’t until the space they were in was littered with the lingering effects of the rift that they traveled through one, intending to take everything on a level playing field. The effects of all that quintessence powering up Voltron—powering up them—had Keith commenting about how powerful he felt as they began to gain the upper hand in the fight.

But Lance noticed something as he felt removed from the fight. Everything felt distance as he watched the Sincline twirl and float among the particles of quintessence; his friends cheering for Lotor’s death as the cosmic particles heightened their negative emotions. “Guys.” He mumbled, even as his friends ignored him in the heat of their frenzy. “Guys!”

Voltron glowed a brilliant white color. It was like a star collapsing in on itself as the giant robot vibrated until the Lions shot off in random directions, floating aimlessly through all of the quintessence.

“What just happened!?” Pidge shouted shrilly through their com devices.

“We weren’t in unison.” Hunk supplied, his voice threaded with annoyance as if this was all one giant inconvenience. “So we split.”

“It’s because I can’t do this!” The words flew from Lance’s lips. “Don’t you guys see what’s happening to you! You’re becoming corrupted by all of this quintessence. You guys are literally advocating to kill Lotor like we’re trying to plan a picnic. We’re no better than Zarkon right now.”

There was a silence between them all as Lance’s words sunk into them, in her own cockpit Allura shook her head as the weight of everything settled into her bones. “Everyone, we need to leave here as fast as we can.”

Pidge took that moment to speak up, “As much as being here is a scientific advancement in its own right. I’m going to have to agree with Allura here and say we make that pronto, considering all of the rifts Lotor opened up are creating a quantum disturbance in the local area.”

“Um, mind translating that into laymen terms for the rest of us?” Keith huffed out.

“If we don’t get out of here, we and this entire system are going to be turned into one giant pile of nothingness.”

They aimed their lions for the closest rift portal, the Castle-ship waiting in the distance, but Lance kept Red pointed toward where the Sincline drifted aimlessly in space. “Guys, I’m not leaving Lotor.”

“Lance—” Allura began, but Lance shook his head, cutting her off with a ragged intake of breath.

“I can’t leave him behind….I-I just can’t. I’m not leaving him behind when he’s this vulnerable.”

“Lance,” Keith growled out his name, annoyance and frustration dripped from his words. “Pidge. Just do it.”

The first syllabuls of a question burned on the tip of Lance’s tongue. One that he didn’t have time to voice as Red was hit with a blast of energy that had vines wrapping around the Lion, shutting down any and all of its systems. “Alright, let’s get out of here.” Keith voiced as Lance felt the force of another Lion pushing against Red, forcing him up toward the rift portal that his teammates were exiting from.

Searing, plump tears were streaming down Lance’s face as he numbly listened in on everyone’s plans to take care of the portals that threatened to collapse the entire quadrant and even beyond that. He numbly listened to them remorsefully talking about sacrificing the Castle-ship; sacrificing the home they’d been living in for nearly two years. A home they would have to evacuate.

Lance was numb as he set about saving his possessions. He made his way to the room where he was storing Kattlnecker, the cow mooed, huffing a gust of breath against Lance’s skin as she nuzzled her wet nose against his cheek almost as if she could sense his sadness. “Me too, girl.” He breathed out as he pressed his forehead against her muzzle. “Me too.”

With all of their possessions packed up, they quickly evacuated the castle, watching from a distance as the castle was consumed by the rift. A flash of brilliant color exploding before their very eyes until all that remained of the castle was a small diamond that Yellow swallowed up.

“What do we do now?” Hunk’s voice crackled over all of their communication devices.

“I suppose we find a planet and reconvene,” Allura suggested as Coran quickly set about finding a nearby planet.

They traveled to it and got out of their lions to rest for a bit. Wrapping his arms around him, Lance stood alone, his friends keeping some distance away from him. He needed the distance after everything that had just gone down, he was still sorting through his own feelings as Keith explained to everyone the cloning facility he had saw. How clone Shiro had attacked him and how he had seen Shiro’s spirit in Black.

It freaked everyone out, to say the least. They’d gone on for so long without realizing that one of their close friends had died or even had been replaced by a clone. They’d been infiltrated by the Galra and had a mole amongst their midst for over a year and they hadn’t known about it.

There was a murmur that rose up about what to do about clone Shiro’s body and Shiro’s spirit. Allura seemed contemplative, before ordering them to take Shiro’s body out of Black. Her gaze quickly swiveled in Lance’s direction as she addressed him. “You don’t have to...you can just—” unknowing what to say, she trailed off uncomfortably and instead forced herself to return her attention to the task at hand. From the distance Lance was pulling in ragged, rapid breaths as Allura pressed her hand against one of Black’s legs, her eyes slipped shut as an ethereal glow seemed to surround her body. Eyes snapping open, she turned and marched toward the clone’s body, before sinking down to her knees and pressing her hands against the clone’s chest. That glow leaking from her own body until it was concentrated in her hands. The glow seemed to transfer to the clone’s body until it faded away, everyone beside Lance crowding around the body.

The clone’s eyes snapped open, eyes narrowing as if the light raining down on the planet was too intense. “Keith?” Shiro croaked out past dry, chapped lips. His tongue felt heavy and parched in his mouth as he watched Keith burst into tears.

Taken aback by the sudden display of emotion from a normally stoic Keith. Shiro blinked rapidly in surprise as Keith dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. “What did I miss?” He asked, his lips quirking upward into a smile despite the tiredness in his eyes.

He shakily rose to his feet, despite the concern of his friends who urged him to sit and rest. His brows pinched in concern when he saw Lance in the distance, arms wrapped around himself and looking on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he breathed rapidly.

“Lance!” Shiro called out, concern threaded through his voice. “Are you alright?”

That question seemed to break whatever dam Lance was using to hold his emotions back at bay. Thick tears rolled down the Paladin’s skin, there was a bitter smile that bloomed across his lips as he shook his head. “No,” he replied gravely, the bitterness apparent in his voice. “I’m not fine.” He dragged in an unsteady breath. “I-I left Lotor behind. I left him behind when he needed me the most and I can’t apologize for that. I can never say that I’m sorry.” A strangled cry rose in the hollow of his throat as the crunching sound of gravel reached his ears. Wordlessly Hunk wrapped his arms around Lance’s frame as the Paladin continued to sob.

“I can’t even tell him that I love him,” Lance whispered as the tears continued to stroll down his face. He buried his face in Hunk’s shoulder as wordlessly the rest of his friends—the rest of his family—slowly came over to him and wrapped their arms around him.

He let the pain wash over him as the tears leaked harder from his eyes. 

 

Reclined in the seat of his cockpit, Lance let the silence envelop him as he stewed in a boiling pot of bitterness. Everyone was going through a rough time, now with Shiro back by their side. But Lance had lashed out a few hours after they had left that desolate planet after getting Shiro back. He was in pain—he was still in pain—but he’d wanted them to hurt as much as he was hurting.

It was petty and he knew it, but he was in grief and he wanted everyone to suffer as much as he was suffering. So he’d snapped and used what had happened to him during his time as a hostage as a means of hurting them. He’d unleashed every dirty little detail that none of them, save for Keith, but even then he’d brought up things that none of them knew. Things that still haunted him in his sleep and left him waking up in a cold sweat on random nights. The satisfaction from seeing hurt and horror in their eyes had felt sweat upon his tongue, but it’d been fleeting as he quickly came to have the emotion replaced by guilt. So after that, he’d spoken to none of them for days. They deserved it, he’d attempted to rationalize in his mind. But it didn’t help to ease to sharp, prickling pains of guilt that wracked his body.

Shiro’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “There’s a nearby planet where we can stock up and refuel. We’ll stop there for a few hours.”

Black who was leading the pride, dipped down and aimed for a planet in the distance. It was a burgundy-colored planet with thick clouds swirling around the exterior of the planet. The Lions followed in succession, descending down to the planet where they found a sprawling city made of clay and mud. There were thousands of cloth covered stalls that made up a magnificent makeshift market. They found a clearing to land in where everyone got out of the Lions in order to stretch their legs and check out the market. Lance chose to stay near Red, his eyes pointed toward the ground. He heard the crunching of dirt beneath feet and lifted his head to see Shiro walking toward him.

There were dark circles beneath Shiro’s eyes, making him look a little more tired than he’d been yesterday, but he seemed slightly more rested. “How are you holding up?”

“I should be the one asking you that question.” Lance shot back. “After all, you pretty much did have your soul shoved into the body of your clone.”

Shiro shrugged as if this situation was normal in the life of a Paladin of Voltron. “I’m holding up fine. This situation is definitely...the weirdest I’ve been in. It’s not every day you get to spend an entire year with your soul trapped in a giant Lion robot. It could have been worse after all.”

“Like what?” He questioned, crooking his bow in Shiro’s direction.

Face going blank, Shiro stared at him, a seriousness burning in his eyes like he was preparing to deliver some bad news. “I could have spent an entire year listening to Coran talking about his youthful adventures again.”

Lance threw his head back, laughter spilling from his lips to join Shiro’s own. The laughter faded out as Lance cleared his throat. “How’s everyone holding up after….?” Lance trailed off, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment over his actions.

“They’re...dealing with everything I suppose. Everyone’s still grieving over my death and trying to process the clone thing. But what you said really affected everyone.”

“I feel like such an ass.” Lance sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest out of habit.

Shiro let out a sharp exhale as he walked closer and stood by Lance’s side. “What you did? Yes, that made you an ass, Lance and I get why you did it. You’re hurting, but so is everyone else. What they did wasn’t the best course of action that they should have taken and I think they’re stewing on that and coming to the realization that they should have done things differently; that they should have taken the time to listen and they’re all beating themselves up right now over it.” Lance nodded, feeling slightly less guilty than earlier at the realization that his friends were regretting their actions. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier. How are you holding up?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lance tipped his head back to stare up at the thick clouds that floated in the sky. “Good, I guess. I didn’t cry myself to sleep last night.” Sighing, he let his eyes slip shut as he scuffed the tip of his boot against the dirt. “You know, I feel like we all fucked up.” He said after sometime, turning his head so that he was staring at Shiro. “Lotor’s gone, leaving the Galra Empire in shambles. He was the only thing keeping the other more messed up Galra at bay, now that’s gone, what’s to stop them from taking power? I know I fucked up lashing out at everyone the way that I did, but...everything just hurts Shiro. Everything hurts and Lotor is gone.” He slipped into explaining everything that had happened while Shiro had been gone, a pair of gigantic, several winged birds flew overhead.

Humming in contemplation, Shiro smirked at Lance. “Sounds like you love him.”

Lance simply stared at him as his mind seemed to be putting the puzzle pieces together. Blinking in shock, Lance pushed himself off of Red’s leg where he’d been leaning and spun to face Shiro. “Shiro, I need you to do something for me.”

Looking slightly skeptical Shiro blinked at him, before nodding in his head in affirmation. “Sure, anything. What do you need me to do?”

Lance set out explaining his plan to Shiro and nearly half an hour later, the two Paladins had assembled everyone in their group into a makeshift circle. Shiro lifted his right arm, forming his hand into a fist as he cleared his throat. “Lance isn’t coming with us.”

Shock hit everyone like a wave crashing onto the beach.

“What!?” Pidge chocked out, her eyes darting between Shiro and Lotor.

“Where are you going to go?” Hunk questioned, his facial expression tight with anxiety at the news.

Lance’s lips pulled into a sardonic smile at the question. “I’m going to chase after Lotor.”

Silence fell over everyone, competing heavily with the shock. Hunk was the first one to make a move, quickly closing the gap between him and Lance, he pulled the other Paladin into a death grip of a hug, causing Lance to cough for air. The Yellow Paladin relented slightly. “I know you loved him, dude.” Hunk whispered softly, releasing his hold on Lance.

The smile on Lance’s lips seemed to grow wider. “I still love him. That’s why I have to do this.” Pulling away from Hunk, Lance held out a recording device that he’d been gripping in his hand. “I want you to take this. I-I don’t really know how long I’ll be out there, but if you guys make it back to Earth—when you make it back to Earth. I want you to give this to my mom. She’s going to cry...can you be there for her Hunk?”

Tears shimmered in Hunk’s eyes as he nodded. Taking a deep breath, Lance’s eyes swiveled around the group he’d come to view as a family. His throat felt tight and constricted as he realized he was saying goodbye to them. He took another deep breath as he made his way over to Coran. The older Altean’s lips were pulled back into a deep frown as he reached out and gripped Lance’s shoulder. “I told Lotor, I’d poison his food and shoot his corpse out into space if he hurt you, but instead we were the ones to hurt you.”

With a small laugh, Lance shook his head. “Don’t beat yourself up, you were looking out for me and I’m grateful for it. Besides Lotor told me he was quite happy when he was threatened by you.”

Coran let his hand drop from Lance’s shoulder, a glimmer of mirth burning in his eyes despite the sad smile fixed on his lips.

Pidge was next. The smaller Paladin pouted as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I feel bad. I turned on Lotor quickly...we all did, but we didn’t take the time to think about how you or he were feeling.” 

“It’s okay, you little runt.” She smiled at that, uncrossing her arms as she wrapped them around his waist, squeezing him tightly as she breathed into his armor that she would miss him.

Lance made his way over to Keith. The half-Galra’s lips were pursed into a deepset frown. “I don’t even know where to begin with this apology,” he began, “I’ve been a shitty friend.”

With a shake of his head, Lance pulled Keith into an embrace. “You’re not a shitty friend.” He breathed out, his breath rustling locks of Keith’s hair.

Keith raised his arms at Lance’s side as if he was unsure of what to do with them, but tilted his head so that his face was buried in Lance’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around the Paladin.

Their hug was brief as Lance unwound his arms from around Keith, he turned toward Allura whose lips were quivering from a mixture of guilt and sadness. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Lance wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“I don’t even deserve to speak to you or have you hug me.” She mumbled into the material of his armor.

“You need to stop beating yourself up. After all, someone once told me that being a leader meant making mistakes, but being a great one meant learning from them and growing.”

He let her go, spinning on his heels to face Shiro. The oldest Paladin’s eyes briefly widened in surprise when Lance launched himself at him, wrapping him up in a hug. With his left hand, he patted Lance’s back roughly. He bent down slightly so that only his words were able to be comprehended by Lance’s ear. “Chase after Lotor,” Shiro whispered. “Keep chasing after him until you find him and never stop. Trust me,” he continued. “If you don’t chase after someone. You’ll regret it forever. I didn’t chase after my boyfriend and I regretted it for a long time.”

Pulling back sharpily, Lance’s eyes were blown out from surprise. “Shiro you’re—”

Shiro nodded at the unsaid question. “Yep.”

Laughter from Lance’s lips spilled out into the air, tears of relief spilled down his cheek as a shout had everyone turning their head sharply in the direction it came from. “Hey! Are you just going to leave without saying goodbye to me?”

Matt waved his hand furiously as he rushed over to the group from the section of the empty plateau where he’d parked his ship. Matt tackled Lance, nearly sending the both of them crashing to their feet as Matt wound his arms loosely around Lance’s neck. “I heard what happened from Pidge.” Matt’s expression was twisted in a variety of emotions as he pulled back and tightly squeezed Lance’s shoulder. Sympathy and empathy burned brightly in his eyes. “Take care of yourself out there, Lance.”

“I will.”

With his goodbyes said, everyone moved swiftly to relieve Lance of his things, transferring Kattlnecker and Lance’s possessions among the other Lions and then...Red was sailing through the air. Growing smaller until he was no more than a red dot that disappeared amongst the swirling clouds of the atmosphere. Shiro watched Red disappear until the only thing that remained of Lance was the heavy sadness and bittersweet goodbyes that lingered around them like a heavy miasma. With a heavy sigh, Shiro ordered for everyone to pack up and prepare to head out.

“Allura,” Shiro called out, causing the princess to stop in her tracks and turn toward him. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” She nodded her head in affirmation, before fixing her gaze on Coran and Romelle. She told them to board Blue without her as she and Shiro walked some ways away from the Lions until they were near the edge of the crowded market. “What is that you wanted to talk about Shiro?”

Shaking his head, Shiro seemed as uncertain of his own words as when he’d heard them come from Lance himself. “It was something Lance said when he was catching me up and everything that had happened before I—before my clone attacked everyone. He said something didn’t feel right about Romelle’s story.” Shiro let loose all the theories Lance had confided in him before he’d left. How it’d seemed strange that Romelle had been found washing clothes in her only source of fresh water. How Keith and Krolia didn’t make mention of finding any other Altean beside her. How it seemed suspicious that Romelle made mentioned that she nor other Alteans had been able to fly Altean tech for generations but her brother could during his escape. How he’d built her a communicator despite both of them knowing that Lotor was keeping the colonies separate with no forms of communication between them.

“Not to mention the fact that Lotor had hidden the colony beyond the quantum abyss, but she was found in it? I don’t know Allura.” Shiro’s brows pinched together, his mouth deepening into a frown. “I just feel there’s more going on to this story that we don’t know about. Lotor was so quick to take the blame for everything, but what if...what if we were wrong and there’s more to this story going on that we’re not aware of. That Romelle isn’t telling us about?”

The back of his neck prickled, the hairs on it rising as the all too familiar sensation of being watched crawled up his skin. Lifting both of their heads at the same time, Shiro and Allura stared as in the distance Romelle stood still on the plank that lead into Blue’s mouth. She was still as a statue, unabashed at being caught staring at them.

Slowly, she turned away from them and disappeared into the confines of Blue’s mouth.

 

Eyes carefully studying the map of the quadrant he was in, Lance pursed his lips as he considered the array of plans he’d been stewing over for the past few days. He was idly floating through space, no clear destination on his mind. The idea of going back to the rift where Daibaazal once was crossed his mind. The only problem would be finding a way to open it. He wasn’t even sure if going through that rift would lead him to the same place where Lotor was currently floating through.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp chime of bells, causing him to look up at a floating notification for communication. His eyes scanned the coordinates, they were nowhere near any member of the Coalition, much less he didn’t even recognize it. He was hesitant to accept it, but with some reluctance, he did anyway.

Eyes widening in surprise, he blinked rapidly as if doing so would help to convince him that who he was seeing wasn’t a mere illusion.

“Wow!” Ezor gasped as she pushed her face close to the camera. “How is your skin so clear even on camera?”

“Ezor.” Acxa chastized the half-Galra, who simply pouted as she pulled her head back.

He was surprised to see all three of them—Ezor glared at him, her mouth fixed into a grimace as if he was some unpleasant bug she had to squash.

“What do you guys want?” He questioned, a little intrigued by their call. But despite the very limited history they had together he didn’t fully trust them as he did Lotor.

The next words that Acxa spoke had hope burning brightly in his chest. A cosmic star that was collapsing in on itself and bursting out with a spark of energy that was enough to affect everything around it. “We have a way of entering the rift...we have a way to free Lotor.”


End file.
